


Black Manor

by GrimHeaperr



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Auras, Blood, Demonic Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Gore, Hallucinations, M/M, Major Character Injury, Needles, POV Changes, POV Third Person, Sheith Big Bang 2017, Slow Burn, fast paced, ghost hunters au, hinted suicide mention, minor character injury, spirit possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimHeaperr/pseuds/GrimHeaperr
Summary: Keith is the president of Garrison University’s Paranormal Investigation Club (P.I.C). He likes to think he’s a capable investigator since he has a few successful investigations under his sleeve, and a self-written diary of his encounters in Garrison, Texas in the form of a blog. However, Keith starts to doubt his abilities when he meets Shiro, a man claiming to have a sensitive paranormal problem. P.I.C accepts the job, but Keith soon finds out the investigation is more than he can handle.





	1. Flora Elaine

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super excited to be posting this! My artist for the Sheith BB was [foxkunkun](http://foxkunkun.tumblr.com)! I'm really grateful to have worked with them through this. Special thanks to my beta reader and best friend, [Kat](http://cadet-chilton.tumblr.com/), for roasting me and helping me edit my fic. I paid them with my love. I'd also like to thank my boyfriend for supporting me through this because I hit a wall back in July with this story and he encouraged me to keep moving forward.

_Could you give that to her… please? Or at least, let her see it._

Keith felt the weight of the photo in his breast pocket as he looked at the decaying country home. The shingles of the roof had seen better days, the sun-bleached green paint chipped off the sliding and the front windows had small cracks in the panels. Dead plants browned in cracked terracotta pots and the grass was so overgrown Keith was almost positive there were snakes, maybe rabbits, buried in the yellow-green. The home had been abandoned three years ago after its only tenant passed away. His client, the living family, claimed it was haunted by the elderly family member named Flora Elaine. The steps creaked under Keith and Pidge’s weight as they made their way into the house. It was 11:48 at night by the time they entered the home – exactly twelve minutes until dead time. They had to work fast.

When the two entered the home, Keith pulled up a mental map of the house: the three doors on his left lead to the two bedrooms and a bathroom, ahead of them was an empty hallway leading to the kitchen and on his right was the entrance to the living room. Keith walked through the archway that leads to the living space. The curtains in the room made it completely dark; a draft somewhere made the curtains flutter occasionally, the moonlight giving the living room long, creeping shadows. He could make out the outlines of abandoned furniture when his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“We can set up in here,” Keith said, placing his stuffed backpack on the rickety coffee table in front of an old leather recliner. Pidge pulled out her laptop, the bright screen illuminating the dusty, moth-eaten couch she sat on. Keith pulled out an electric thermometer, night-vision camera, tripod and his prized possession: a spirit box. He bought the spirit box in lieu of a voice recorder; he thought that using white noise to speak with spirits would be easier and faster than playing a recording back, and for the most part, he was right. They had an EMF meter at one point in time, but a particularly rambunctious spirit caused it to break and they have yet to replace it. Their collection of investigation tools was very limited, but in a small town, nothing more was ever usually needed.

“The ghost is apparently the client’s grandmother, Flora Elaine,” Pidge said, her voice low as if the spirit could hear her. Keith switched on the night vision camera as she read through the file. “According to her family, the lights would flicker on before entering, and the temperature would drop a few degrees.” From the information they had gathered, Keith concluded that the poltergeist was harmless. The family had no reports of physical contact with Flora Elaine. From behind him, Keith could feel her presence a few feet away. She was watching, waiting to see what the strangers in her home would do. Her stare made the hair on the back of Keith’s neck stand up and a sick feeling pool in his stomach. He could feel her prodding at his spirit.

Keith focused on the clicking of Pidge’s keys as he set up his mini-tripod a few feet away from the front door entrance. He placed the night vision camera on it and angled it so he had a perfect view of the hallway.

“Camera online, Pidge.” Through the camera, Keith could already see her. She was a ball of barely-there light, drifting up and down listlessly. He switched on the thermometer, waiting for it to slowly turn on before getting a reading. “Starting temp is sixty-eight degrees in the hallway.” Keith walked through the home, slightly forcing open the shut door in the hallway and entering an office space. He walked into the middle of the room and waited for a new temperature reading. He did this with the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen and ended the reading in the living room, noting all of them to Pidge. While he did this, Flora Elaine trailed behind Keith, and Keith didn’t bother acknowledging her just yet. 

“Did you get all of that?”

“Yeah, the bedroom – whoa.” The clicking of keys stopped. Keith looked up, locking eyes with the spirit that was Flora Elaine. The thermometer beeped in his hand as the temperature dropped five degrees. He shoved the device into the cup mesh of his backpack.

Flora Elaine was standing in the hallway entrance to the living room. “Pidge --” Keith said her name commandingly, but she was already ahead of him. She tossed the spirit box to him, Keith nearly dropping it. Keith stepped closer to Flora Elaine as Pidge set her fully charged cellphone on the coffee table. Keith fished out his own phone from his pant pocket and held it up. He flashed the screen quickly before locking it again and flicking on the spirit box.

White noise frequency engulfed the room. “Flora Elaine, my name is Keith Kogane.” A bead of sweat dribbled down Keith’s temple as he shouted over the noise, “and my friend Pidge is sitting on your couch. We mean you no harm.” Keith watched with his own eyes as Flora Elaine turned, drifting down the hallway. Keith stepped into the hallway and watched as she disappeared behind the far bedroom door. Instead of following her, Keith started asking questions.

“Do you know Mavis Randeour?” He waited a couple of seconds, breathing lightly. Flora Elaine didn’t respond. “If you need energy, in my left hand there is a cell phone, and on the coffee table is Pidge’s cell phone and laptop. You can draw on any of these to give yourself energy.” He felt Pidge’s pointed glare but ignored it. If the laptop goes out, so does their live-feed. They are very under equipped for ghost hunting, but Keith can’t do anything about that.

Keith felt his cell phone heat up in his hand and he dropped it instantly, letting the phone bounce on the hardwood floor. Static screeched from the device before it quickly died. He didn’t take his eyes off the living room entrance, feeling a headache form at the front of his forehead.

Keith swallowed his nerves as he stepped forward.

“Keith, anomaly spotted,” Pidge shouted, eyes scanning the side of the video feed Keith didn’t occupy. She watched as it floated near the bedroom door, slowly swaying. Keith flicked off the spirit box, the house an eerie silence again.

“It wasn’t dust?” Keith knew it wasn’t dust, but he had to debunk it on the spot if it was.

“No. Through the feed, you can see the dust falling. This one spec isn’t. It looks like a camera flare, but it’s still. Oh,” Pidge said surprised, “It flew toward the camera and disappeared.” 

Flora Elaine manifested right in front of Keith, the thermometer beeping as the temperature dropped again. Keith could see her clearly, her body only semi-transparent; She was wearing a ruffled floral blouse and matching shorts, her hair tied back and the glasses he saw in the photos the client showed him were missing from her face. It took a moment for Keith to realize she was in her pajamas. How could he forget she died in her sleep?

“The light anomaly disappeared,” Pidge observed, her voice not as loud as it could have been.

Keith could smell the faint scent of rose perfume.

 _Thank you_ , a female voice echoed in his mind. Keith let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He felt cold as he turned on the device again, white noise frequency flooding the house again. 

Keith swallowed his nerves and spoke loud and clear: “Mavis sent us here, Flora.” Keith waited for a reaction, but the ghost stared at him, waiting for him to explain. “She said that you can turn the lights on and off, could you do that for me? Can you show us?” Keith watched as she floated into the kitchen and disappeared behind the open doorway. A few moments later, the kitchen light turned on, illuminating the back half of the hallway. Keith sucked in his breath and Pidge audibly gasped. He knew she was not aggressive, but her spirit was still pretty impressive. Keith clicked off the spirit box again and entered the living room.

“I’m moving the camera to the kitchen.” Keith shook off his backpack before retrieving the video camera, unhooking it from the tripod before following the path Flora Elaine took into the kitchen.

In the light, the kitchen looked well-kept compared to the other rooms. The wooden cabinets were intact and the kitchen counter seemed almost pristine aside from water stains. Keith flicked off the light and waited for the camera to adjust. He could faintly see Flora by the stove. She had her back towards him and her position made it seem like she was cooking something. Her body was going through the movements of moving pots and pans, the sound of metallic clattering faint, but still audible to Keith. He turned on the spirit box, the loud noise filling the whole house as it filtered white noise. Keith slowly approached her, placing the camera on the counter and angling it to where it was pointed directly at Flora Elaine. Keith felt sharp pains pulsing from his headache and his body felt fatigued. The spirit was pulling from his energy.

“Do you know Mavis?” He shouted over the noise. He waited, but Flora Elaine still went through the motions. He watched a sickly green sauce pan be placed on the rusted stove. “Flora Elaine, do you know Mavis Randouer?” he asked again, more insistent. She stopped, her body manifesting in front of him and right in front of the camera.

“Granddaughter.” It was her voice again, except filtered through the white noise. Keith took a deep breath. The investigation is finally going somewhere. Keith wonders if she’ll talk to him. Suddenly, he became very self-aware of his wrinkled button-up shirt, torn skinny jeans, and a messy ponytail. Maybe Flora Elaine wouldn’t mind his messy appearance. Maybe.

 

_“Why are you dressed up? Trying to see if the elderly ghost will go on a date?”_

_“Remember that young woman ghost that wouldn’t talk to me? And caused the investigation to halt before she finally said –”_

_“You dress like a punk.”_

_“I have a scar because of that. I would like to keep bodily harm to a minimum.”_

 

“Mavis wanted to let you know that she’s doing fine.” Keith watched as Flora Elaine opened her mouth to speak, but Keith couldn’t hear her words. Keith looked at the screen on the camera, clearly seeing her figure’s shape in the grain of the video. He knew he was going to regret his next move.

Keith stopped the video recording and popped out the SD card from its home. He could feel Pidge’s annoyance through the peeling paneled walls but he could care less. He held out the camera. “You can take energy from this.” Keith let Flora Elaine touch his hand and bring it to her chest, his hand an odd mixture of burning heat and a chilling cold.

“Do you have the photo?” She asked, her voice coarse from years of smoking, from years of raising children that have long since left their sleepy little town. The spirit box sputtered out the word “Photo”. Keith used his free hand to pull out the picture in his pocket, the weight of it releasing his chest. The photo was a simple impromptu family photo: Mavis was smiling, holding onto a wiggling toddler that crawled up her shoulder. At her feet stood a smaller child, a little girl who was reaching up as if to catch the toddler should he fall. Keith never got used to being in private moments, but he was the only one who could do it. He knew more about people than he ever would have known if he had pursued them on his own.

He let Flora Elaine grab the photo, her fingers pinching it from his hand and bringing it closer to her face. She wept, the spirit box faintly echoing her cries. Keith steeled himself and just let the filtered white noise go through one ear and out the other. _I’m used to this,_ he told himself, _it is part of the job._ Investigations can go south quickly if Keith couldn’t find a way to calm the spirit, but investigations like these, where the situation is personal, he never knew how to comfort a spirit. He didn’t even know how to comfort the living. When he turned back around, Flora Elaine was slowly becoming more and more transparent. Her gaze never left the photo.

“They’re growing so fast.” He heard her say. “They are OK.” Keith nodded, but he wasn’t acknowledged. The spirit box filtered her sentences perfectly.

Keith understood the uncertainty of the spirits that died suddenly. He’s been in this position before. Their spirits linger, living their life through their final moments. They stay attached to this plane, even if they don’t belong. They don’t know about the outside world. They can’t leave the place they’re forever bound to. The spirits don’t know about their family or their friends. It was Keith’s job to release them, to free them from this plane of existence where they cannot truly live. The reality of the situation was that it wasn’t actually Keith’s job, but after two years of investigating, it turned out to be that way. He didn’t mind it much – most investigations were nonviolent.

Keith swallowed the memories of his mother.

“She wants you to be at rest, Flora Elaine.” Keith didn’t know where his voice came from, but he spoke anyway. He was still shouting over the spirit box. He thought about how he’s going to have to play it back later. “She wanted you to see that photo.” The ghost closed her eyes and Keith saw the remnants of her tear-streaked face. His heart squeezed.  “Mavis misses you." 

“I miss her too.”

Keith watched as the photo slipped through her fingers, Flora Elaine evaporating into small moving lights, floating upward toward the ceiling of the kitchen and disappearing above the water-stained tile. When the last of her light disappeared, the home felt empty, still. The room was no longer cold, but slowly, the warmth of the Texas heat filled the kitchen. With one last look upward, Keith sighed, bending over to pick up the photo. To his surprise, it changed. In the background, a streak of sunlight vaguely outlining a human shape appeared behind Mavis, a yellow glow resting on her shoulder. He slipped the photo into his breast pocket, fastening it shut for safe keeping.

Keith turned off the spirit box before inserting the SD card into his camera. When he looked at it, it was on its last bar of charge, the icon blinking red. He pointed it toward himself before pressing record. “Flora Elaine had passed over upon seeing her family’s photo. The house is empty now. It feels… hollow.” Keith sniffed, feeling something wet about to drip from his nose. “Investigation 874 complete.” He turned the camera off and returned to the living room where Pidge was sitting on her phone, her laptop already put away. She didn’t bother looking up at him when she spoke.

“You know,” _Here it comes_ , “I get that you feel you should release the spirit or whatever from its misery, but can you please not use the equipment as a sacrifice. It’s expensive. Not to mention doing that loses our data.” Pidge pushed her glasses up for punctuation.

“The batteries are rechargeable,” he countered, popping out the SD card before putting the camera into its case and in his bag. “Plus, we didn’t lose anything. I popped out the SD card before she took its energy.” He tossed the card to her and she struggled to catch it.

“Tell that to our viewers.” Pidge gestured to her laptop, and Keith could see the text chat moving quickly.

He shrugged. “They know how I am.” Pidge scoffed and got off the couch, stretching. When everything was packed and Keith locked the door to the house, the two headed back to the university. Keith pinched his nose as they walked into the heat of the night, trying to stop his oncoming nose bleed.

“You okay there, Fred?” Keith tried and failed to hide a smile. “Need Advil or something? A tissue?” Pidge shook her backpack as punctuation, Keith hearing the half-empty bottle rattle and the plastic from the tissue case crunch. Leave it to Pidge to come prepared. Keith didn’t even have his migraine medication.

“No, it’ll go away after a while. Plus, my nose hasn’t bled yet.” Pidge nodded and yawned comically. Keith yawned in return, lightly shoving her shoulder.

They still needed to review footage, listen to the recordings and type up an investigation report. Not to mention the footage they had to edit and shoot for their blog. Keith rolled his shoulders and when the two got to their club room, they started reviewing everything, checking off one line on the to-do list after another.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can like/reblog a post with the story information [here](http://grimkohai.tumblr.com/post/164932334949/title-black-manor-for-the-sheithbigbang)!
> 
> If you can't wait for the next chapter, refresh the page every five minutes LOL. I'll be posting this fic in its entirety (all eight chapters).
> 
> You can follow or talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/grimkohai) or [tumblr](http://grimkohai.tumblr.com)!


	2. Shiro

Keith flopped down onto the abused bean bag chair in the room the Paranormal Investigation Club currently occupied. He dramatically draped an arm over his eyes to block out the sun and white ceiling lights. His eyes burned behind his eyelids and he could feel the fatigue creep through his body like an inching worm. Pidge loudly sipped on her coffee.

“You’d stop feeling like shit if you drank water and you know, actually slept when I told you to.”

Normally, Keith would’ve ignored her but his tolerance was draining as the sun came up. “I’d also stop feeling like shit if I exercised and ate regularly, but we know how that goes.” Pidge snorted, writing the conclusion to the report Keith wrote earlier that morning. He had a class in two hours, and Pidge offered to take over so he didn’t miss class again.

“Yeah, yeah, just rest your eyes before going to class, Kogane.”

Keith let the weariness take over, relaxing into the bean bag chair. He let the sound of Pidge typing lure him into sleep, but sleep wouldn’t take him. Keith could feel something _off_ about… something. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the feeling until it made him shudder. Without opening his eyes, he groaned as someone knocked on the club door.

Pidge looked at Keith from his lax position on the beanbag, but when he didn’t say anything, Pidge told the person to come in.

The feeling was now in the room with him, and Keith couldn’t ignore it any longer. When he looked up, he was greeted by the sight of a well-built man wearing their college’s hunter green hoodie, black pants and matching sneakers. His black hair was cut close to his head, leaving a forelock hanging over his forehead. Keith remembered seeing him around campus over the summer, but couldn’t remember his name. As the man looked at him and Pidge, Keith saw it: the man’s aura was tainted black, but underneath he could see the soft lavender wisp excitedly, but the black would engulf any aura flare in a quick motion.

Keith has never seen that before.

“Is this the paranormal research club?” the man asked, his voice a nice tenor. Keith could see the bags under his eyes as he looked at him, awkwardly making eye contact with dull onyx eyes.

“Yes,” Pidge answered for Keith, turning back to finish typing the report before hitting ‘send’. “I’m Pidge, and the club president is spaced out on the beanbag.”

“Hey,” Keith got up too quickly, ignoring the white that blurred his vision. He offered his hand and the man took it, shaking it with a firm grip that Keith returned. “I’m Keith. Can we help you?”

“Ah,” Keith gestured to the faded black lounge chair, motioning for him to sit while Keith pulled up his computer chair. “I was wondering if you guys could help me out. I’m Shiro by the way,” Shiro introduced himself awkwardly. Keith watched as he nervously pushed his black forelock from his face. “I was recommended to come here by a friend.”

“What seems to be the problem?” Pidge asked, flipping to an empty page in her notebook.

“Well,” Shiro scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I’ve been having these weird dreams as of late, and then when I wake up there’s this like, black substance always on my hand but when I touch it, it doesn’t smear and when I go to wash it off, it’s already gone.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any photos?” It’s not that he didn’t believe him; the guy was certainly shaken up by his problem, but Keith need something more tangible than word of mouth.

Shiro nodded, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, I even have a video.” Keith watched as he opened his photos, showing Keith a black stain that pooled in the middle of his right palm. Keith whistled long and low. Shiro showed him more photos: one where the stain was only on his thumb, the next it was on the backside of his hand and in the last photo, his hand was completely black. The stain didn’t seem to grow until the last photo. The last thing Shiro showed him was the video. Keith leaned forward, hands on his knees as he looked at the phone.

“Look, what is this?” Shiro’s voice said, the camera shaking before stabilizing. The stain was in the middle of Shiro’s palm, and it seemed to be…pulsing? Shiro clenched and unclenched his hand, his fingers rubbing his palm before coming off. Keith showed a surprised expression. His fingers came off clean.

“Wow.” Keith leaned back, thoughtful. Keith looked to Pidge who looked at him, waiting. “Can I see your phone, Shiro? I’m just gonna send these to the club email.” Shiro handed over his phone. Keith sent all the photos and video, hearing Pidge’s laptop _ping!_ upon receiving the email. He handed back Shiro’s phone.

“Do you feel any pain at all? Like, when the stain appears?” Shiro shook his head. “Do you have problems remembering things? Like what you ate yesterday, forgetting classwork or something? Or experience any fatigue or mood swings?” Those were a few basic symptoms for spirit possession, and if Shiro experienced any, then Keith knew what to do.

Shiro looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I do have problems remembering things. I had a study group I organized, but completely forgot about it.” Pidge scribbled down what he was saying. “And I have been experiencing fatigue lately, but I thought it was just normal. I’m a part of the intermural sports scene.” Pidge leaned over behind her, grabbing the camera off the charging port.

“Do you mind if we record, Shiro?” When he looked at her confused, she explained, “We typically use the recordings as a reference for investigations, should we take on your case.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine.” Keith and Pidge exchanged a knowing glance before Pidge hit record. 

“Can you tell if it’s normal fatigue for you? Or if it’s different?” Keith asked, pulling the conversation back to him.

Shiro’s gaze switched. “It’s… different.” He hesitated before speaking again. “It’s like… I become annoyed while I’m fatigued. Like I’m fine during practice but after… I’m not normally quick to anger,” he said sheepishly, “A couple of teammates said I’ve been acting different, but I just… I feel the same, you know? Like nothing’s changed.” Keith hummed thoughtfully as he leaned back in his chair, it squeaking at the shift in weight.

“Do you know when these changes started happening, Shiro? Were they recent?”

Keith watched as something flickered in Shiro’s onyx eyes, the black of his aura retreating to expose the lavender. When Shiro spoke, the black returned. “After I went to Black Manor.”

Keith scowled, taking Shiro by surprise. _If he’s possessed, I wouldn’t be surprised._ “Well, that may explain your problem,” he said bitterly, running his fingers through his hair before scratching his head. “Why did you even go?” His tone was accusatory but Keith didn’t care. _This is going to be a pain._

Shiro sensed his anger and nervously shook his knee. “A few of my friends were doing a test of courage, but I guess I was the only one affected.” He answered. “We all didn’t really believe in ghost stories,” _Skeptics,_ “so we went to check out the manor and, well, some things went down.”

“What things?” Pidge asked excitedly, pushing her glasses up. Keith watched as she nearly hurled herself over the desk, her pencil clattering to the floor and camera shaking in her hand.

“We never went to the second floor, but we could hear footsteps, almost as if they were stomping. It really took us by surprise,” he started. Keith could see the memory play in his eyes and beyond it, a figure appeared. Keith relaxed his shoulders, focusing on Shiro’s words. “After the footsteps, there was this… whispering wind. Everyone heard it but we didn’t know what it was saying. And then,” Keith saw something dark pass Shiro’s eyes, Shiro’s bottom lip suddenly quivering.

Curious, Pidge came closer, but Keith held up a hand for her to stay.

Keith watched as Shiro’s hands moved to his knees, gripping so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes gained a glossy sheen, and his whole body started to shake. Keith placed a calming hand on Shiro’s, snuffing out the black aura that was flaring from Shiro’s hands.

“We want to help,” Keith started, Shiro’s eyes flicked to Keith’s and in them, Keith could sense the fear and sorrow of the spirit that had latched onto Shiro. “Please leave this body, he cannot help you,” Keith sucked in a breath, silently willing the fear pulsing into his heart into a resolved calm, “but I can.”

“Keith –”

Keith felt a sudden cold creep up his arm. He watched as a black, thin line slithered around his arm. The line burned Keith’s arm in a cold as it slowly made its way up his arm. Before it reached the bottom of his shirt sleeve, the black line retreated; it shook down his arm and through his hand, disappearing at his fingertips. Once it finally left, Keith felt normal. Keith looked at Shiro and watched as he came to; whatever spirit that had appeared retreating into the recesses of his mind.

Shiro slowly blinked. Keith watched as Shiro regained consciousness. Shiro’s hand relaxed underneath Keith’s palm, and the man became aware of the other hand on top of his. Keith squeezed it, pulling the rest of Shiro’s mind from where it went, drawing the man back into this world. As he returned, Pidge offered him a water bottle from the mini fridge behind her desk.

“We lost you for a second, man,” Keith removed his hand, feeling something under it. He ignored it, for now, folding his hands together to conceal whatever it was. “Where’d you go?”

Shiro downed half the water bottle before answering. “I don’t know, but it was…” he hesitated, squeezing his eyes closed. “Dark, and cold. It smelled of fire and ash. And I felt,” Shiro turned over his hand, eyes tracing a mark that wasn’t there, “like I still had something left to live for. It was like I died and came back.” Shiro looked at him then, eyes glittering. Keith felt a light blush start to coat his cheeks. “I felt your hand on mine, and you… I don’t – you pulled me back.” Shiro smiled earnestly next, and Keith felt his heart thud against his chest. “You saved me. Thank you.”

Pidge turned off the recording, retreating back behind her desk and popping out the SD card and inserting it into her laptop.

“It’s… no problem.” Keith said, red and a little embarrassed. “From the looks of it, you’re possessed. And from what you said, the spirit has unfinished business left in this world.” Shiro nodded. This guy kept surprising Keith; he didn’t have an ounce of fear, and only accepted what Keith said. He didn’t fight back. _He’s amazing._

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Yes,” Keith said immediately. He spun in his chair and kicked himself to his desk, shuffling the heap of papers until he found a prototype of a pamphlet about spirit possession. He kicked himself back to Shiro before handing it him, the man chuckling. “I know it looks ridiculous, but the information is what matters for now.” Pidge had designed the pamphlet: it was all black with simple white lettering saying, SO YOU’VE BEEN POSSESSED, NOW WHAT? with a poorly drawn ghost underneath the text. On the back was the phone number of the local priest that performed exorcisms for false promises of attending Mass.

Shiro opened the pamphlet, eyes scanning over the information.

“Your case is definitely interesting, Shiro.” Pidge said, peering from above her laptop. The lights glared on her round glasses.

Keith nodded. “Pidge and I will check out the Manor this weekend. What rooms were you in?”

“We never made it past the foyer,” Shiro said, still reading the information in the pamphlet. Keith pulled a silver sharpie he had in his pocket, tapping the pamphlet in Shiro’s hand. It took him a moment to understand, but he handed it over and Keith wrote his cell phone number on the front. 

“This is my cell phone, don’t hesitate to call me if something else happens, alright? I never sleep.” Shiro laughed at that. 

Shiro stood up, taking the pamphlet from Keith. Shiro pointed at the sharpie and Keith handed it over, sticking out his arm. Shiro hesitated, but Keith only waved his arm impatiently. Shiro wrote his number, goosebumps appearing on Keith’s skin as cool ink made contact.

“I’ll be in touch, Keith,” Shiro said smiling, handing the sharpie back. Keith nodded, returning the smile softly.

“Likewise.”

Pidge and Keith watched as Shiro left, closing the door behind him. Keith spun in his chair to talk with Pidge but stopped short when he saw her shit-eating grin.

“Don’t.” he warned.

“’Don’t hesitate to call me if something else happens!’” she mocked. Keith huffed, blushing to his ears as he pushed himself to his desk, opening a new document on his desktop for Shiro’s file. “’I’ll be in touch, Keith!’” she said again, relentless. 

“We help people, don’t we!” Keith said, still red. Pidge laughed.

“On the bright side, you’ll have a boyfriend at the end of this case,” Pidge said, tossing her notebook to Keith. It landed on his paper heap, scattering papers to the floor. He ignored the mess to type the information Pidge wrote down and what they witnessed.

“Assuming we’re taking the case.” Pidge waved her hand, dismissing him.

 

_Investigation 875: Shiro_

_Start Date: 08/23_

_Client experience possession after returning from Black Manor_

_symptoms: fatigue, behavior changes, memory loss, aura change, black stain (?)_

_During the recording session, Shiro became possessed. The spirit physically affected Shiro: eye shift, body chills. I offered the spirit to enter my body, but it retreated back into Shiro before disappearing again._

_[Refer to photos and video]_

When Keith grabbed the mouse to upload the photos, he felt an electric shock. He immediately removed his hand, feeling his skin burn. 

“Dude, you’re smoking,” Pidge said, looking over with worry.

Keith forgot about his hand. As he turned it around, his eyes grew wide. Steady streams of smoke came off of his hand and burned into his flesh in black was a single word.

_Help._


	3. Black Manor

The sun hung high overhead when Keith and Pidge arrived at Black Manor. Sweat dribbled down Keith’s forehead as he looked up to the manor, the eroded gargoyles covered in moss like the stairs that lead inside. Vegetation grew upward along the outside of the vast building, vines creeping and obstructing the windows that weren’t cracked. Weeds grew everywhere behind the gate and Keith noted the yard was well used, seeing trash litter the area haphazardly and patches of brown dirt where people sat.

“How do we get in?” Pidge asked, walking up to the gate and picking up the lock that was chained to it. Keith looked around and found it: a worn path the lead to the side of the property.

“Over here.” Keith walked toward it, seeing that the path leading to an old wooden box that was pushed against the grey brick of the far side of the fence. “Bingo.” Keith jumped on, feeling the box beneath him wiggle under his weight. He hoisted his backpack over first, hearing it land with a clatter. Pidge handed him her backpack before he tossed that over, too. Keith jumped up, pulling himself over and falling onto the other side next to their bags. He landed with an _oof_ and he heard Pidge laugh.

“Did you fall?” Her head popped out from the other side of the brick wall. Keith rolled his eyes as he got up, brushing off the dirt and grass that collected on his black jeans. 

“Just come on,” he said bitterly. Keith walked over, helping Pidge down and guiding her to the ground. She grabbed her backpack and handed Keith his. Pidge said her thanks jokingly as Keith got the camera from his bag, shoving the case back in and zipping it up.

“Did you transfer the raw footage already?”

“Yeah, it’s already saved back at H.Q.,” Pidge answered. Keith clicked on the camera, changing the settings and focusing the lens.

“Sweet.” He pointed the camera at Pidge, who made a face as he counted down. “3, 2, 1, and –” He hit the record button and Pidge was smiling, looking past the camera and at Keith before shifting her gaze.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” She pushed her rounded glasses up the bridge of her nose, “Not quite sure when this will be posted, but currently Keef and I are investigating Black Manor.” Keith followed behind Pidge as she walked, Keith panning over the manor to get a full view of it before turning back to Pidge. “We’re investigating a possession one of our clients experienced the other day.” Pidge paused for a second as she walked up the steps, kicking aside dead vines and cigarette butts. “We recorded him and got some good footage. If he lets us use it, this is the Segway for that. If not,” she shrugged.

“This place is a local hang out because it’s supposedly haunted,” Pidge said, jiggling the knob and shouldering it so it creaked open. A gust of cold wind rushed past them, the smell of dust making Keith sneeze. “Oh man, this place is a dump.”

Keith panned the camera over the foyer, getting as much footage as he can. The foyer was covered in bottles, cans and red cups, with a few papers littering the floor. The skylight above them filtered the sunlight, illuminating the dust floating in the air and made the chandelier’s light bulbs gleam in their broken glory. Various small items were strewn across the dark wooden floor: old cigarettes, candy wrappers, chip bags and empty condom wrappers. The furniture had splintered and fallen over time, a broken lamp laid in the corner covered in dust. The decaying wood creaked under Keith’s feet as he panned up the grand staircase; footsteps wore out the color of the purple rug, and a few steps were missing at the top of the staircase. Archways flanked the side of the foyer, leading to what was the dining room and living area respectively. Time has not been good to the inside of the manor.

“This place must have been beautiful in its glory days,” Keith started, moving the camera so it was looking at Pidge again. She was in the middle of kicking an aluminum can to the side, the noise echoing in the empty manor. The noise itself scared Keith, but a cold chill made him bristle.

The thermometer started beeping in Pidge’s pocket. “Fuck, we forgot to get starting temp.”

Keith ignored Pidge as she grumbled to herself, whipping around to where the archway leads to the dining room. A spirit stood at the entrance: a young man about Keith’s age, wearing what looked to be a uniform, but half of his body wasn’t there. He heard Pidge tell him she’s going into the next room, but he didn’t reply. He walked closer to the unmoving spirit and as he came closer, Keith could see him almost clearly. The spirit had short black hair, a deep scar across his nose, white, dead eyes and if he squinted, Keith could see the black that outlined his clothes and his face. _Burned to death._

All at once, Keith could feel what the spirit was feeling: fear, pain, sadness. Keith dropped to the floor, the camera going down with him.

Keith didn’t hear the camera drop as a low, loud scream pierced his ears. He forced himself to focus on his breathing, blinking back the tears that started to form in his eyes. His chest heaved dramatically as he rode his emotions. The fear felt raw, almost as if it was living inside of him. He could hear his blood rush into his ears, his heart beating harshly against his ribcage. He clutched the side of his head with his hands, bringing it down to where his head almost touched his knees. 

He could feel flames lick at his skin, the heat making him sweat and the bubbling burning sensation making his hands shake and turn numb. Keith was being burned alive, and he could feel eyes on him, watching as he burned like a moth to a flame.

He didn’t register Pidge screaming his name as she rushed to his side, kneeling down and pushing the camera so she could be beside him. Pidge touched Keith only to feel the clamminess of his skin. She felt the heat on her hand. Pidge wiped Keith’s bangs away from his eyes, a worried expression on her features. “Keith?”

Keith screamed again and Pidge sucked in her breath, slapping him hard across the face. 

Keith’s cheek burned and he cursed, clutching his face. He felt the fear and pain leave his body as he blinked. Pidge held him in front of her by his shoulders. She had tears in her eyes as he looked down on her.

“Pidge? What happened?” His voice sounded hoarse, but he was talking fine moments ago. Keith tried to remember what happened after he saw the spirit, but couldn’t remember. _Shit._

“Do you need the pamphlet?” she asked seriously, her brown eyes boring into Keith’s. Keith pushed her away, annoyed. “I’m serious, Keith.”

“I don’t need it,” he told her, moving back to get his bearings. “What happened?” He looked around, and when he looked back at the entrance of the dining area, the ghost was gone. _Where’d he go?_

Pidge helped him up before answering, “I don’t know. You were looking at something and then you started freaking out. You were _screaming_ , Keith.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. _Screaming?_ “I don’t remember screaming. I remember – I…” Keith thought about it, subconsciously looking at his arm. Keith could see his skin bubbling red, raw from hot flames. His only anchor was Pidge, and her reaction to looking at him wasn’t panicked. She wasn’t looking at his arm. _It’s in your head, Keith. Calm down._ Keith grabbed Pidge’s arm, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Keith focused on the green of Pidge’s aura, the familiar earthy hue reaching out to him. He could sense a few spirits near him, all looking at him. At his soul. He could sense a few people his age, pulling at his spirit and trying to get it. Keith steeled himself, closing all doors to himself while squeezing Pidge’s arm. Keith breathed out.

“Did we get my freak out on tape?” he asked quietly, opening his eyes. Pidge picked up the forgotten camera and played back the video, fast-forwarding to when Keith dropped to the floor. The moment he hit the ground, static interrupted the video. Through the audio, he heard himself scream, the noise echoing in the crowded room. Keith furrowed his brows.

“We have to dissect this later.”

Keith nodded. He looked around him, but nothing changed within the house. He could still feel the spirits that were watching him, but he couldn’t see them. The reading he got from this place could be summed up in one word: fear.

“I think we should come back with a team, so we can cover more ground,” Keith said, grabbing the camera from Pidge. “If I become incapacitated, it’d be best to have someone with me.” The two walked toward the door and as they went, the hairs on Keith’s neck stood up.

Keith slowly around, eyes frantically searching behind him. He felt a breath on his neck, making him hunch his back. Pidge poked him, and when he looked at her, her line of sight wasn’t on him but instead, past him. Keith followed to where she was looking and he could see it: A black misty figure was standing on the second floor, right above where the missing steps were. Keith could sense the malice from the figure pricking at his skin and without saying a word, Keith opened the door to the manor and exited, Pidge following close behind him. Before she could shut the door, it slammed shut, startling the both of them.

They exchanged nervous glances.

“Are you guys alright?” They jumped at the new voice, turning to see Shiro standing in front of the steps that lead to the manor. He had a worried look on his face and when Keith looked past his black tank top and jeans, Keith saw a subtle streak of white hair in his black forelock.

Pidge cursed Shiro’s name. “What are you doing here? After being scared to death, just peachy.” She replied, annoyed. She stomped down the steps and moved past Shiro, bumping him on her route out.

“What happened?” Keith took a wobbly step down, his energy depleting as he went. He felt more tired than he expected, and the thought of whatever spirit that was inside had latched onto him made him shudder.

Shiro helped him down the stairs, taking his hand and placing the other on his lower back, steadying him.

“We don’t have enough people to investigate the house right now,” he told him, avoiding the question. Before Shiro could interject, Keith said, “We need more people and more equipment.” They walked toward the brick wall, watching as Pidge had trouble jumping over.

“How many people do you have in your club?” Shiro asked as they got closer.

“Just us,” Pidge answered for Keith. “Can you help me out here? You look strong enough.” Shiro complied, letting Pidge step on his hands as he pushed her up, the force nearly sending her completely over.

Shiro helped Keith over next, handing his backpack and the camera to Pidge while he lifted him from his waist. Keith didn’t have time to think about the strong hands on his hips while focusing on pushing himself up, swinging a leg over and rolling down onto the ground beside the wooden box, his dizziness making it difficult to get up.

“Ever graceful,” Pidge commented, helping Keith up while Shiro jumped onto the wall and landed on the ground.

“Well,” he started, getting the attention of Pidge and Keith, “I’d like to join.”

Pidge eyed him. “Aren’t you in like, three different sports teams?”

“Two,” he corrected, “and practices only go until six most days.”

Keith thought about it. It has only been him and Pidge for two years, and their club wasn’t even a club in the university’s eyes. With an additional member, that wouldn’t change, but it would surprise their unofficial official adviser, Coran.

“We don’t really have club meetings,” Keith said.

“It’s pretty unconventional.” Pidge rubbed her nose. “We’re in our lair every day.”

“I can handle it.” Confidence. “I just want to help you guys.”

“Famous last words, Shiro.”

Shiro let out a breath, smiling at Pidge’s words. “Maybe.”

Keith looked to Pidge and she shrugged. Keith patted Shiro on his back, guiding him from the alleyway as they walked back to the university.

“You’ll have to fill out some paperwork and waivers,” Keith said.

Shiro swallowed his nerves. “Waivers?” He watched as Keith turned his arm over, showing him the scar that raced down his left arm. When he looked to Pidge, she rolled up her sleeves, shocked to see the amount of Band-Aids covering her arms. “Do you guys get hurt often?” he asked, concerned, but it was more for them than it was for him.

“Not often. Most spirits fuck with Keith.” Pidge rolled down her sleeves. “Just don’t piss them off.”

Shiro hummed, nervously looking at Keith but Keith didn’t meet his gaze. “Noted.”

When they got back, Keith printed Shiro out the necessary paperwork. When it was finished, Pidge offered to take it to their adviser and left them alone.

“Does your advisor always work weekends?” Shiro asked, resting a hand on top of Keith’s messy desk.

“He’s here more than we are, and we never leave.” Keith tied his hair back and turned back to his monitor, opening up Shiro’s file and writing down what happened in the manor. 

“You never did tell me what happened.”

Keith’s eyes flicked to Shiro’s momentarily, seeing the questions bubble in his eyes. He shifted his gaze back to the monitor, slightly blushing at Shiro’s undivided attention. _What is wrong with me?_

“Pidge and I went to check out the manor, and when we went inside, I… got possessed,” Keith said carefully. From his peripheral, he could see Shiro’s shocked expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Keith said, feeling his annoyance pool in his voice. He was fine. “I’m used to it.” Shiro frowned, not liking the answer. “What were you doing there anyway?”

“Thought you guys could use some help, but I didn’t know what time…” Shiro’s voice fell off, and Keith could see him scratch his neck. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

Keith spun in his chair, eyeing his charger on the wall that leads to his phone. He left it connected to the charger. Keith reached up to grab it, and sure enough, Keith had four missed texts and a missed call. Keith huffed. They could’ve had one more person.

“Sorry about that.” Keith offered, a little embarrassed at his mistake.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you two weren’t seriously injured.”

_Just my psyche._ Keith looked at him then, Shiro’s expression relieved. The sincerity in his voice was new to Keith. Most clients didn’t care about the well-being of him or Pidge; they only cared about if their problem was solved or not and if the club was actually legitimate. As far as Keith knew, the Paranormal Investigation Club was the only source of paranormal investigators in Garrison, Texas, and they weren’t professionals. They were amateurs if he was being honest. It was refreshing to see someone who cared about them, not just about themselves.

Before Keith could respond, Pidge burst through the door, her green hoodie from earlier tied around her waist while she wore a black P.I.C. hoodie and matching hat. She waved a paper in her hand.

“Welcome to the club, Shiro!” she said a little too loudly in her excitement. She walked over, pulling the hat off her head and placing it on Shiro’s. Shiro laughed, adjusting the P.I.C. cap so he could see, a smile meeting his ears.

“I didn’t even know we had things like that.” Keith stared at the pullover Pidge was wearing. The school’s lion mascot was in the middle in a white outline, the words PARANORMAL INVESTIGATION CLUB in a text the circled a white lion. The hat had PIC embroidered neatly.

“Coran said he ordered these last semester, but the school didn’t approve. He said it was, ‘a lovely surprise’.” She said the last part in a bad imitation voice. “Now that you’re officially part of the club, we have work to do.” Pidge pushed up her glasses, the light glaring off of them. Keith handed Shiro a cracked tablet off of his part of the desk, the club’s blog already opened.

“You can look at our past work for now. Everything is by date.” Shiro nodded, taking the tablet from Keith’s hand. “It starts off in the five-hundreds because the cases before that are hand written in journals.” Keith jerked his thumb to the bookcase where a series of black-spine compositions lined the top shelf, a few shoved into the empty space between the top of the bookcase and the journals. 

Shiro looked at the shelf then back to Keith. “All written by you?”

“Co-written,” Pidge piped up, taking a seat in her desk chair.

The three of them spent the rest of the day in the club room, Shiro reading through their published case files while Pidge and Keith review footage and typed up observations. They stayed like that well into the night.


	4. Questions

**New Group Message**

12:03 AM

Pidge: Hey, get to Caramel Cocina ASAP

Pidge: Hey, get to Caramel Cocina ASAP

Pidge: I mean it

12:06 AM

Shiro: On my way!

12:10 AM

Pidge: Keith I will call you and wake up if you don’t answer your phone in 5

Pidge: 4

**SHIRO changed the name to P.I.C**

Pidge: 3

Pidge: 2

12:11 AM

Keith: I’m up. Give me a sec.

 

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, sighing. He basked in the warmth of his bed and breathed in the cold air of his small bedroom. The moonlight hit his face in full, gently coaxing him awake. Its light illuminated his poster-covered walls and guided his way to his closet where he tugged jeans from yesterday off the floor and pulled a maroon hoodie over his bare upper torso. He wiped a hand over his face to get the sleep off, stumbling over dirty laundry, books, and a shoe. He made his way to his front door, footsteps echoing in his empty living room as he slipped his shoes on and grabbed his keys from a nail off the wall before locking his door.

The heat was relentless, even at night. Keith was sweating by the time he got to Caramel Cocina, the only 24/7 malt shop in Garrison. The milkshake mascot flickered as Keith entered, the bell jingling and a blast of cold air and the smell of Spanish food welcoming him. He looked around, seeing the only server talk animatedly with the cook. Pidge and Shiro were already seated in a corner booth, the two sitting across from each other. As Keith approached, Pidge slid her backpack next to her, the bag dropping with a heavy thud despite her laptop and bulky headphones on the table in front of her.

Shiro scooted over, arm draped over the back as he motioned for Keith to sit down, smiling. Suppressing a blush, Keith slid in and leaned forward to cross his arms on the table, hunching in his hoodie.

“Alright, now that you’re both here, we can –”

“Hey guys,” Pidge was interrupted just then by their server: a skinny, tanned skin man whose smile was perfect for customer service, “My name’s Lance and I’ll be your server for tonight, can I get you guys started with any drinks?” His pink shirt said CARAMEL COCINA in a brown loopy font, a dancing milkshake with a sombrero as the backdrop in an almost invisible pink color. 

“A water, please.” 

“Coffee and a cup of creamer.”

“A water.” Lance walked away, and Pidge continued.

“I was going through the footage of Keith’s encounter, and it’s a bit hard to hear but,” Pidge unplugged her headphones and played it, the static playing loudly and nearly making Lance spill the water he was dispensing into a clear cup. “Sorry.” 

Keith strained to hear it but under the static, he could hear… a voice. A voice that wasn’t his own screaming.

“What is that?” Shiro asked, squinting at the video. Lance returned to their table, gently placing their drinks in front of them, making a point to make a crescent shape so Pidge could access her coffee, creamer, and spoon easily.

“It sounds like it’s saying something; can you enhance the audio? We can probably get this to a Class B EVP.” Pidge turned her laptop back to her, fixing the audio with one hand while fixing her coffee with the other.

“What’s a Class B EVP?” Shiro asked, picking up his water and taking a drink.

“It’s one of the classifications for an EVP, or an electronic voice phenomenon,” Lance piped up, resting a hand on his hip. Everyone looked at him, and he seemed to like the attention. “Class B is where it’s kinda hard to hear a spirit, but through enhancement, it could be heard. There’s also Class A and Class C EVPs, Class A being a very clear voice and Class C is sort of like, ‘Was there even something there to begin with’?” Keith let Lance explain, drinking his water and when Shiro looked at Keith for confirmation, Keith only nodded.

“He’s right,” Keith said, “It’s how we classify paranormal sounds.” Shiro nodded, thinking back to one of the journal entries Keith had written.

“Hey, aren’t you guys the ghost hunters of the Garrison?” Lance asked, eyeing Keith and making him feel uncomfortable. “Like, aren’t you Keith Kogane? _The_ Keith Kogane? The one that like, talks to ghosts?”

Keith side-eyed him, uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

“You know, I knew your hair was long, but I didn’t know you were actually a walking 80s bad decision.” Pidge stifled a laugh while Keith tried channeling his anger into not getting banned from Caramel Cocina. It was a losing battle until Shiro placed a hand on Keith’s thigh, lightly squeezing it. The contact made Keith bristle, but Shiro didn’t remove his hand.

“I think it looks good. It suits him.” Keith flushed a mixture of embarrassment and flattery he hasn’t felt in a long time. Lance looked like he was caught off by that statement, used to having people agree with him. Pidge was laughing now, and Keith tied his hair up before looking straight into Lance’s eyes.

“Better?” he smirked. Lance smiled before laughing boisterously.  

“So, you guys here to eat or discuss the paranormal?”

“Both, actually,” Pidge moved her glasses up, “I’ll take a short stack.”

“Do you guys have soup right now?” Everyone turned to him. Shiro removed his hand from Keith’s thigh and shrugged. “It’s not breakfast until I wake up.” Pidge glared but didn’t say anything and just sipped her coffee.

“Fair point, man. The soup’s chicken noodle tonight, that okay with you?” Shiro gave him a thumbs up and smiled. “Cool, got a short stack, some soup, and for you, Ghostbuster?”

Keith made a sour face at the nickname, but Lance continued smiling. “I’m fine, thanks.” Keith thought about his bank balance and the bills he has yet to pay, not to mention the late fees on last month’s water bill. The last investigation’s bill hasn’t cleared the bank yet. His last resort is pawning his last kitchen chair.

“Aw, come on man, I’m just messin’ with ya. What do you like? Eggs? Bacon? You look like a bacon kind of guy.” Lance pressed on, trying to convince Keith to order something and missing the telepathic message Keith was sending him to _Shut up._

“It’s fine, man. I’m not hungry.” His stomach growled, protesting his statement.

“Hey, I’ll pay, get whatever you want.” Shiro slid the single page menu toward Keith, tempting him. Keith eyed it, knowing about the bacon cheese fries that sat at the bottom right of the menu under SIDES and right next to a bowl of rice.

“Hey,” a new voice startled them, and from over the counter, a man from behind the kitchen window was peering at them. Sweat beaded under the orange-yellow fabric tied around his forehead. From where Keith sat, he looked like a hefty guy. An excited hefty guy. “Are you Keith Kogane?” Keith never regretted his blog more than he did tonight. Keith let out a strangled noise somewhere between a _Yeah_ and _Sure,_ waving to the man before the cook broke into a smile. “You helped my family out last year, I thought you’d never swing by!” His smile was bright. Keith reeled in his head, trying to remember helping him but came out short. “My Nana really appreciates you taking my aunt to the other side. We’re the ones that gave you two pies and a macaroni casserole.” Keith remembered now. He ate the cherry pie in one sitting and gave the apple pie to Pidge, splitting the casserole with her. It was their payment, after all. “I got you, Keith. Chef’s special.” They all watched as he poured batter, the sound of it creating a hot sizzle. “I got their orders, Lance.”

“You got it, Hunk.” Lance left the table and now the attention of Pidge’s smug smirk and Shiro’s surprise were solely focused on Keith, whose ears and face were burning red.

“Well, this night is going well.” Pidge rubbed her upper lip with the flat of her forefinger, smiling.

“I’d say,” Keith grumbled, “What were you saying, Pidge? About the audio?”

“Oh, right,” Pidge turned her laptop back to them, the video that Keith recorded off to the left side and the software of the program on the right. Keith could see the spikes in volume from where the static disrupted the audio and visual feed, but Pidge had separated the audio into different layers. “I had to tweak it a bit without distorting the audio and this is what I found.” Shiro and Keith both leaned in, shoulders touching as Pidge back the audio. Keith’s screams were almost muted, and the voice he thought he heard earlier was a soft gurgling sound and then,

 

_Help… Keith… Help… Takashi…_

The audio cut off, and Keith moved his hand to replay the last part, turning the volume to max. The static played again, droning out the sizzles from the kitchen and Lance’s humming. The gurgle they heard now sounded like a low growl. They exchanged nervous glances before hearing the audio again:

 

_Help… Keith… Help… Takashi…_

 

The voice sounded male and almost familiar. Keith thought back to when he was possessed, but he couldn’t remember anything. He had immediately blacked out when the spirit entered his body and even in his dreams, Keith couldn’t recall anything from the Black Manor. He then thought of Shiro’s possession, but there wasn’t a voice, only the similar word ‘Help’. Keith couldn’t make the assumption yet, and only Pidge knew about the word that had burned into Keith’s hand. He subconsciously opened and closed his fist.

“I think this is the spirit that possessed you, Keith.” Pidge started, taking her laptop back. “The only conclusion I could come up with is that the spirit cannot pass on, which is obvious, and somehow knows Keith could help.”

“It could probably see my memories,” Keith suggested, leaning back into the booth. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Shiro looked at him quizzically, and Keith opened his mouth to explain before he was interrupted.

“Some entity used Keith’s memories to trick him into nearly falling off a second story balcony last year,” Lance said, placing their plates of food as carefully as he can, avoiding their drinks and Pidge’s electronics. “It was really lame if you ask me. I wouldn’t have fallen for it.”

“No one asked,” Keith said. The entity in question was an old man hell-bent on keeping his home to himself, and Keith had followed the man’s light to his bedroom that had turned into the layout of Keith’s house. It was an odd sensation, even as he remembered it. He went into his mother’s bedroom that was actually the balcony of the house and nearly fell, breaking out of the hallucination the moment his foot sank into the empty air. His walkie-talkie shattered on the pavement beneath him and had to get a few stitches in his hands from gripping onto the splintered wood.

“A ghost tried to kill you?” Shiro asked, bewildered. Keith paid close attention to the sweat that gathered on the plastic cup, water dripping down and creating a water ring around it on the table. “Does that usually happen?” 

“Depends,” Keith said sourly, “This ghost wasn’t too keen on trespassers, and I was there purely out of curiosity, so it was my own fault.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Lance said, placing Pidge’s pancakes off to the side of her.

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Pidge finished.

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” Lance said, placing Shiro’s bowl down before leaving to retrieve Keith’s food.

“What happened?” Shiro asked and Keith spared him a side glance before turning his attention back to his cup, the water slowly rising as the ice melted.

“I followed an energy orb to the upstairs master bedroom and the next thing I know, I’m reliving a memory,” Keith closed his eyes and willed the images away, “I opened the door to a bedroom in my house and next thing I know, I’m dangling from the second floor balcony, holding on to splintering wood.” Shiro flinched at that and Keith turned over his left palm where a jagged scar traced down his lifeline. “That damn ghost cost me a walkie-talkie. I would’ve fallen too if Pidge hadn’t managed to pull me up in time.”

“Please,” she said sheepishly, “You hardly eat. It was like pulling up an anchovy.”

“That’s amazing,” Pidge waved off Shiro’s compliment between a bite of pancakes, clearly embarrassed.

Keith smirked. “It wouldn’t be the first time she’s saved my life.” 

“Really?” Shiro’s eyes glimmered with a fearful curiosity and Pidge sent Keith a _Don’t you dare_ glare. Keith took a sip of his water before speaking again.

“We had one investigation that took place a few miles outside of town last winter,” Keith remembered the desert road vividly. “We had to drive directly into the wilderness to get to the location. The owner of the property tried renovating the place but every time he would tear down walls or install insulation or wires, something kept pushing him off his ladder. When we got in there, the spirit greeted us with a flying paint can.” Shiro choked on his water. “We learned that the spirit had died suddenly; she was really young too, barely eighteen. She defended her home in a violent rage that nearly killed me.”

The table was silent, anticipation thick in the diner.

“Since the new owner was doing renovations, there were bundles of exposed wires everywhere. The ghost trapped me in a room. She tied my legs with some wires that burned through my jeans and burned my leg. I ended up falling in a puddle.” Keith remembered the puddle being warm despite the chill of winter. “I watched as she had gathered some more wires, the electricity sparking off of them as she lowered them into the water. That’s when Pidge came in,” Keith looked to her, cueing for Pidge to guide the story, but she pointedly ignored him. Shiro was too engrossed in the story to notice the exchange. “She came in, saw what the ghost was doing, pointed and then yelled at her that murdering me wasn’t going to make her feel better.” A bell dinged from the kitchen. “Eventually, Pidge calmed down and so did the spirit. We learned that her name was Kat. She had watched her parents die in that house from old age, but she herself could never go to where they went. She doesn’t even know how she died.” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed as he remembered his conversation with Kat, the somber feeling he had back then resurfacing. “We had to convince her she could see her parents again if she was willing to cross over. It took a while, but Kat eventually left, and she even apologized to me.” Keith laughed lightly at that memory.

“That was the first time I ever talked to a spirit directly,” Pidge added, “and I wasted the moment to save him,” she poked and the two friends shared amused glances.

Shiro’s face was riddled with concern, but that investigation was a thing of the past now; a fond memory to the two veteran P.I.C. members.

"Well, I’m glad that ended well,” Shiro said, not knowing what to say. Keith looked at him then, meeting Shiro’s soft gaze and smile. Keith’s heart thumped. “I’m glad you’re still around.” Keith wanted to believe there was a pink tint in Shiro’s cheeks but saw it fit to blame his lack of sleep for the delusion.

Keith coughed. “It takes a lot more than an angry ghost to kill me,” he said sheepishly, nervously pushing his bangs from his face for them to only fall back in their previous place.

“If the ghost didn’t, this will,” Lance said, holding a steaming plate with a rag on his hand. “This was made especially for you, Keith-y boy.” Lance set down a long plate in front of Keith that seemed to overflow with beans, rice, three different types of enchiladas covered in various cheeses, a small salad and a crunchy taco. Keith couldn’t believe his eyes and if Shiro and Lance weren’t present, he would have cried. “Let me know if you guys need anything else.” When he left, Pidge peered at Keith’s plate before looking up at him.

“Ten bucks says you’ll eat it all in ten minutes.” Keith’s eyes narrowed, considering her ten dollars.

“There’s no way,” Shiro laughed skeptically, looking at the massive amounts of cheese and beans. Keith cracked his fingers before picking up a fork and taking a bite, the flavor of the melted cheese and well-seasoned chicken entering his mouth. It was good. So good. Keith turned his body to call out to the cook, but they met eyes directly. He looked startled and Keith took another bite, sending him a thumbs up before the cook disappeared behind the wall.

“Anyway,” Pidge said, drowning her pancakes in syrup again, “We all know that ghosts love Keith for whatever reason, so that’s no surprise. And now that they asked for help, he’s going to help. No matter what.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone, and Keith ignored it, but not Shiro.

“I think that’s a good personality trait, being helpful,” He spooned his soup into his mouth.

“Of course you do,” Pidge said through a mouthful of pancakes, “but, who’s Takashi?”

Their table went silent again. Keith and Pidge contemplated and tried to remember if they knew anyone by that name. Keith has never met a Takashi before, nor has Pidge. They could easily hack into the school’s student list to find the name, but they would have to break into Coran’s office to access a school’s computer again. Keith voiced this.

“We don’t have to do that,” Shiro said, stirring his soup. Keith looked at Shiro who looked uneasy, his eyes not meeting his or Pidge’s.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, giving Shiro his full attention.

Shiro didn’t look at them as he slicked his bangs back nervously. “Well, this could be a coincidence, but…” Shiro looked at Keith then, his onyx eyes swimming with nerves, “My full name is Takashi Shirogane.” 

Pidge stopped eating to type up this new development in an empty notepad app, and Keith set down his fork. This whole situation with Black Manor had already made Keith uneasy, first with Shiro’s possession, then his own and the last of it being the shadow him and Pidge saw as they were leaving. _But what does it mean?_ Keith knows that this development skyrocketed Shiro’s case from “after classes” to “priority”. _What did the spirit want with Shiro? How does it know his name? Why does he need help?_ What was the threat? There is now the possibility that they might have interpreted the audio wrong too: possibly Shiro and Keith were both in danger, or maybe Keith is supposed to help Shiro with his situation, or perhaps it’s the spirit asking for both of their help. There has to be a reason for the spirit to seek help in the first place. An uneasy feeling began to pool in Keith’s stomach thinking about it. He pushed his plate to the side, not hungry anymore. 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned these last couple of years, there are not enough coincidences,” Keith said gravely. Shiro and Pidge both gave Keith a worried look, but he pressed on. “Starting tomorrow, we need to start researching Black Manor seriously. Past records, people who lived there, who built it, when it was built. I don’t like this spirit knowing Shiro’s name.”

“Alright, Fred.” Shiro chuckled lightly at Pidge’s comment. “I agree. I can do some field work; I’ll leave the research to you guys.”

“Got it.”

“Hey,” Lance startled all of them, a hand on his hips and the other holding two take out boxes, “If you guys need any help, let me know. Hunk,” he jerked his head to the side, motioning to the cook who had headphones in while cleaning his station, “and I know a lot about ghost hunting. We have our own equipment and do it as a hobby.” Keith considered his offer. Extra hands, extra equipment. It was a no-brainer.

“Alright, you always here?” Keith asked, patting himself down for a pen and coming up short.

“Nah, I have a life most days unlike you guys,” Lance put the take out boxes on the table, clicking his pen and writing down two phone numbers. “Top one’s mine, bottom one’s Hunk’s.”

“Thank you, Lance,” Shiro said. Keith put the numbers into the phone, absentmindedly taking the first one off the top of the stack. Keith passed his phone around so Shiro and Pidge got the numbers as Keith shoveled leftovers into the styrofoam take-out box.

“No problem,” Lance winked and walked away, taking a few steps before looking over his shoulder and saying, “Your meals are on the house, by the way. No need to thank me.” He winked and disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen.

“I got tip.” Pidge dug in her hoodie and fished out a wad of one dollar bills, leaving it on the table. “We should start research ASAP. Time might be of the essence here.” Pidge eyes drifted to Shiro momentarily, the worried glint hidden behind the glare of her glasses. Keith and Shiro nodded, agreeing. The two watched as she put her things away and walked out of Caramel Cocina as a group.

They walked to the bike rack where Pidge’s green speed bike waited, no chain keeping it in place.

“I’ll see you guys in the club room tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Pidge winked at Keith and rode away before he could even say anything, and he didn’t bother shouting after her.

“Do you live around here?” Shiro asked. Keith looked up at him, a tired smile adorning his features and the streetlight embracing him in an orange glow.

“Yeah,” Keith squeaked out. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. He was hyperaware that it was some time past 2:00 AM, and it was just him, Shiro, and his leftovers. “It’s about a ten-minute walk down the street and into the subdivision.”

“Cool, I can walk you home. I live past the subdivision.”

The two started walking, listening to the crickets and kicking a rock between the two of them.

Shiro broke the silence first. “What got you into ghost hunting?” Shiro kicked the pebble to Keith, who returned it.

“It was mainly a mix of _Ghost Hunters_ and _Ghost Adventures,_ but…” Keith drifted, thinking about his mother. “I saw my mom’s ghost when I was a kid, and that sort of started everything for me,” Shiro open his mouth to apologize, but Keith stopped him. “I’m over it. Plus,” Keith kicked the pebble, but he kicked it too hard and it bounced off a wooden fence and ricochet across the empty street. “Seeing her gave me the drive to help spirits pass on.” He remembered feeling his mother’s sorrow as if the incident happened yesterday, her sadness washing over him in cool blue.

Keith didn’t bother meeting Shiro’s soft expression, but Shiro grabbed Keith’s hand lightly and waited for Keith to retract his hand. He didn’t, letting Shiro’s aura engulf him in a clear lavender in these small moments.

“I think that’s very noble of you Keith,” he shrugged, thinking nothing of it. “And I always wanted to thank you, for taking on my case, and if it gets too hard –”

“I’m not going to abandon the case,” _I’m not going to abandon you,_ went unspoken, but Shiro filled in the blanks. Keith was looking at him now, eyes intense and showing his emotions honestly. Keith had never quit a case before, and even if the prospect of whatever spirit is lurking behind this case scares him, he wasn’t going to leave Shiro. “I’m going to see this through, no matter what, alright?” Keith raised his hand up, placing it on Shiro’s shoulder, the taller man smiling down at him sadly. “It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

Shiro reached to cover Keith’s hand with his. “No more so than when we first met,” Keith frowned, but didn’t push for more. It was obvious had gotten worse, but if Shiro thinks he can handle it, Keith would let him. In the few weeks he’s gotten to know Shiro, Keith learned that Shiro can handle things himself, but, Keith also knew when too much was too much. Keith has suffered in silence for years before he met Pidge, and even then, he still avoids telling her things. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, but because he can handle himself.

“I meant what I said Shiro.” Keith let go of Shiro’s shoulder, walking to the corner of his street with Shiro at his heels. Shiro reached out, turning Keith around and wrapping him in a hug. Keith bristled, but after a moment, hugged back, leaning into Shiro’s warm body and letting himself get buried beneath his aura. It was pure lavender now, and Keith focused to feel where the black went, but couldn’t find it.

“I know,” he said softly. Shiro let go, pulling away and placing a friendly hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll text you after my class tomorrow and help you research, alright?”

“Sure.”

Keith said his goodbye to Shiro, walking down his street and crossing his dead grass to his front door. Once inside, Keith slunk down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He reveled in the fact that not only did he hold Shiro’s hand, but that Shiro hugged him.

Keith isn’t going to sleep well tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish Caramel Cocina was real... but that would give us too much power...


	5. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art appears here by the amazing [foxkunkun](http://foxkunkun.tumblr.com/)! You can view all pieces [here](http://foxkunkun.tumblr.com/post/164932783626/here-are-the-arts-i-did-for-grimheaperrs-fic), but uh, spoilers (if y'all care about that LOL).

Shiro

2:23 PM

I’m at the library – 4th floor

 

After his classes were done, Keith walked across campus to the library, pushing open the doors and making a beeline for the computer lab. The place was empty since, after classes on Friday’s, everyone usually went home. He found a spot in the corner, setting his backpack on the chair next to him and pulling up GU’s library search engine.

He typed in BLACK MANOR and the first result was a short biographical article in the school’s database.

 

_Black Manor, located in Garrison, Texas, was built sometime in the late 1800s, possibly around the turn of the century. The manor was first built and used as a boarding school and was later bought out by a wealthy family. The house is known for its Queen-Ann style architecture and painted black, giving the manor its name._

_In the mid-1900s, a section of the manor was burned down due to a kitchen fire, killing its workers and a few occupants of the house, including the Lord of the Manor, Zarkon. Little is known about the incident and no records indicate any viable witness accounts. The part of the home that was burned down was later rebuilt by the Lord’s son, but the home was abandoned a few years later. Today, the home still stands, but sources say the foundation of the home is unstable._

 

Keith copy and pasted the information into a document before continuing, finding no online articles about the fire or who “Zarkon” was. Frustrated, he printed what he had and left, heading up to the fourth floor of the library. When he rounded the corner toward where the library kept their newspaper archive, he saw Shiro sitting alone at one of the tables, a stack of yellowed papers beside him. He had his face buried in an article, his glasses hanging off his face. Keith approached him and when Shiro didn’t look up, Keith pulled out a chair, the scraping of wood on title startling Shiro into looking at him.

“My bad,” Keith apologized half-heartedly. Shiro smiled at him anyway, pushing his glasses up.

“Hey!” he greeted excitedly, “I found some newspapers from the time the manor was being built, and I just brought the stack over. I found out the company that did it, but nothing much about the occupants beside small children and their caretakers.”

“Did you find anything about a fire?”

“A fire?” Shiro thought about it before shaking his head. “No, all these articles are from the mid-1800s, from around the time the Manor was being built. I can show you where I found them.” Keith shook his head, telling Shiro he knows where to look and disappeared behind the shelves, walking to the end of the aisle.

Keith scanned the rows of newspapers in their boxes, pulling one out of each stack and checking the date before finding a newspaper dated September 12, 1967. The headline read that Black Manor was being reconstructed. Keith pulled that newspaper out and leafed through the rest, and after looking for a few minutes and pulling several more out, he found the newspaper about the fire. For good measure, he pulled out the newspapers that surrounded it before heading back to where Shiro sat.

The two worked silently, shifting through the information. Keith opened the newspaper that had a burning building as the front page, the title reading BLACK MANOR BURNED! in faded newsprint. Keith scanned the article, learning that the house burned during a dinner party, taking the lives of seven servants and three family members, one of them being the owner of the manor, Zarkon. Keith wrote down the names of the people who burned and their ages. No photos of them were in the newspaper. Keith folded it back up before scanning three more, finding a side article titled BLACK MANOR MURDER?

Keith spread the newspaper out, hunching over to read the faded text.

 

_While investigating the fire of Black Manor, police begin to suspect that the fire could have been started on purpose. While interviewing one of the staff members, who wishes to remain anonymous, has revealed that a man by the name of Takashi Shirogane had been murdered minutes prior to the initial fire. She believes the fire was a retaliation effort that failed, taking the lives of seven servants and three of Zarkon’s family members, including himself. Lotor Galran has no comments on the matter and investigation has stalled._

 

Keith reread the article several times in disbelief. Keith stared at the name Takashi Shirogane for a solid five minutes. Eventually, Keith slapped the yellowed newspaper on top of what Shiro was reading, pointing to the article. Keith watched as Shiro read it, his eyes growing wide. Shiro looked up to Keith, then back at the newspaper, stunned. 

“Well,” he started, taking off his reading glasses to clean them, “I guess that explains some things.” Keith sat in the chair next to him, pulling his notebook from his side of the table to him. He wrote down the article’s date and headline before copying what the article said word for word in shaky handwriting.

Keith let out a slow breath before speaking. “If anything, maybe now we know the name of the spirit who’s trying to contact us, and maybe, it’s the same spirit that’s possessing you.”

Keith felt a chill run down his spine. Shiro’s lavender aura flared, the black that tainted it returning. He watched as a shadow passed over Shiro’s face and down his right arm, twist around his bicep and down his forearm before staying there. Keith reached out, taking Shiro’s hand in his while he watched the black pulse. Shiro squeezed his hand.

“Keith?” To his surprise, it was Shiro’s voice. Keith looked at him, confused. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright?” he repeated. The coil was still wrapped around his forearm and now Keith noticed his hair had changed too; the small streak of white he saw last week was now thicker, racing down his black bangs. “Are you alright?” Keith stressed.

Shiro followed Keith’s line of sight, picking up a white tuft of hair, visibly shocked. He looked down at his arms and stood up, his chair clattering to the floor.

“Oh my god,” Keith stood up too, walking around the table and taking a hold of Shiro’s arm. “Does it hurt?” Keith couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. Silently, Shiro shook his head, staring at his arm. Keith pressed his thumb into the inky black skin, but Shiro didn’t seem uncomfortable. This was too amazing, yet terrifying. Keith has never seen anything like this. His feelings were a mix of shock and pure awe. “Well, at least it doesn’t hurt,” Keith said softly, tracing the coil with his finger, the black cool to the touch. _That’s the only upside_ , he thinks. “We have to get to Pidge. Or a priest.”

Shiro let out an airy chuckle. “I don’t think a priest would help.”

Keith looked at him then, confused. “What do you mean?” The local priest helped him out in cases before, and with something like this, he was sure Father Lorenzo could help Shiro.

“I first went to him with this problem. He couldn’t help me so sent me to you,” Keith felt his heart squeeze, releasing a shuttering breath. If the Father couldn't help, Keith didn’t know if he would be able to help Shiro with this. A spirit never altered someone to this extent, and the effects seemed permanent. Keith was already failing Shiro. 

“Hey, I have to get a photo of this,” Keith said, ignoring the guilt beginning to bubble in his conscious. Shiro nodded lamely as Keith pulled his phone from his back pocket, snapping a picture of all sides of Shiro’s arm and of Shiro’s bangs, sending the photos to Pidge and to the club’s email.

“Do you feel any different?” Shiro shook his head, picking up the fallen chair. 

“No, actually. I didn’t even feel it happen.” Painless.

“Maybe the ghost is trying to tell us something,” Keith said, walking back over to his seat and shifting through his torn pages of notes and the newspapers, trying to find a description of the Takashi Shirogane that was murdered. In one of the newspapers, Keith found a list of obituaries on the back. He read off the names of the people and recognized a woman’s name – Abigail – she was one of the people that were recorded to have burned to death in Black Manor. Keith sat down, picking up the paper and reading, finding the name Takashi Shirogane. Underneath his name was how he died and a brief description. An Asian man in his early 20s.

“Shiro, how old are you?”

Shiro blinked. “23, why?”

Keith looked up at him and watched as he sat down. “I think the spirit possessing you is Takashi Shirogane. He was around your age when he died, and when you went into the Black Manor, you got his attention. He’s trying to live through you, or, trying to free himself from Black Manor.”

“Takashi,” Keith said suddenly, looking straight into Shiro’s eyes. Shiro blushed, startled that Keith used his first name but calmed himself when he realized Keith was talking to the spirit that possessed him. Keith reached out and Shiro grabbed his hand, lightly squeezing it. “Please tell us how to help you.”

Keith blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the library. Instead, the walls around him were wooden panels, wrapping around the room and covered in oil paintings and wall lights. A small table with chairs crowded the corner of the room. Keith took a step forward, running his hand on the rough, dark oak wood table before hearing a scream behind him.

Keith whipped around, seeing smoke starting to pour out of a closed door. He ran to open it, the handle burning his hand. Keith let go, stepping back and shouldering the door open, entering a room swallowed in flames. Orange licked the cabinets and walls. Keith’s ears were filled with terrified shrieks, and under the fire, Keith could see bodies writhe. He stepped into the fire, trying to pull people from the flames but his hand went straight through them as if he were a ghost. Keith watched in horror as people burned. Keith forced eyes upward, feeling a tear streak down his face and seeing the black smoke cover the ceiling. As a forced pulled him forward, he tripped over something, landing onto the hot tile. He propped himself onto his arms and twisted his body to see what he tripped on, and who pushed him.

A man laid on the floor, his chest heaving slowly. Flames began to burn his clothes and Keith watched in horror as his face turned, revealing that the man was being burned alive. Keith felt bile rise up his throat and he swallowed it, scrambling away. He slipped, falling onto his hands and knees again. When he looked at what he slipped on, red stained his shoes and the bottom of his pants. The man gripped his ankle and pulled Keith toward him. Keith saw the open wounds that littered the man’s chest. When he tried to get away, a bloody hand grabbed Keith’s neck and yanked him back, squeezing. Red pain filled Keith’s chest as he choked, gasping in smoke and ash as he tried to breathe. Keith’s chest slowly grew open, bloody wounds and Keith could smell his burning flesh.

 

_Don’t stab me. Don’t stab me. Don’t stab me._

_H e l p m e_

 

Keith screamed.

“Keith!” Keith’s head pulsed with pain, the cool tile of the library making him groan. He opened his eyes and quickly shut them, the light burning. He felt someone hover over him and when he opened his eyes – slowly this time – Shiro was hovering over him, face set in a worried frown his glasses nowhere in sight. “Are you okay?” Keith blinked, slowly readjusting to the light. Keith held out his arm and Shiro took it, slowly helping him up by using one hand to pull his arm and the other to support his back. Keith felt hot even though the library’s A/C always chilled him to the point of goosebumps. 

 

“Keith, you’re bleeding.” Shiro dug in his pocket and handed Keith a crumpled napkin. Keith put a hand to his face, fingers feeling something wet and warm on his upper lip.

Keith took the napkin, still in a frightened daze. “Thanks.” Keith knew it was blood as he wiped his upper lip, cleaning it and leaving the napkin on his nose as Shiro helped him up.

“What happened?” Shiro’s voice was soft, low as if asking any louder would make Keith faint again. Shiro helped him into the chair Keith was sitting on, taking a seat next to him with a reassuring hand on Keith’s knee. Keith sighed.

“I had a vision,” he sniffled, squeezing his nose slightly to stop the blood.

“A vision? What do you mean?”

Keith closed his eyes, relaxing his body and leaning back. Shiro removed his hand. Keith thought about the other times something like this happened, and they were few and far in between. He doesn’t normally have visions, but he does have feelings. Instincts, premonitions. He can usually tell what a ghost is feeling: loss, pain, sadness, happiness. Visions took too much of his energy, and often times, he couldn’t control them. He doesn’t know what triggers them and every time he tried to research his own condition, it was mainly people in forums trolling. His own conclusion that it was an advanced form of astral projection, but even then, Keith wasn’t too sure.

“Sometimes,” he started, opening his eyes and focusing on one spot of the ceiling tile, “I have these visions. And I do mean sometimes; they almost never happen.” Shiro didn’t understand, but he waited for Keith to continue, watching as he twiddled with his thumbs, “I usually get feelings about a case, whether it’s a good or bad feeling depends on the case but occasionally,” In his memory, Keith could see a body hovering above the ground, and his younger self didn’t dare to look up, “I get these visions. It’s not like, seeing into the future, but more of seeing into the past and I think –” Keith reached over on the table and shut his notebook, mind turning. “I think I know why this ghost is asking for help.” Keith stood up, gathering his things and shoving them into his backpack.

“What?” Shiro asked, standing up and help Keith organize things on the table; they stacked the newspapers they used off to one side while bunching notes together and throwing pens and pencils into their backpacks.

“He was murdered.” Keith felt his heart beat speed up. He knew he was right. Without hesitating he fished out his phone again, hitting the number 3 and putting it to his ear. Shiro watched curiously as Keith shrugged on his backpack.

“Pidge, club room in ten.” He didn’t give her time to answer. He quickly hung up and started toward the stairs in a brisk walk.

Keith is starting to gather this case, fitting small pieces in, and he needed to run his ideas by Pidge, not only to tell her but to throw theories together. He would never admit it out loud, but this is his favorite part of the investigation. Brainstorming theories until three or four in the morning.

Shiro and Keith made their way back to the club room in five minutes, Keith’s face red from fast walking in the Texas heat while Shiro barely broke a sweat. When they entered the club room, Pidge was already sitting at her desk, scrolling through her phone with her feet on the desk. Shiro shut the door behind them and Keith slammed his hands on Pidge’s desk. She was unfazed.

“Takashi was murdered.” Pidge peered above the rim of her glasses at him, noting the sweat dribbling down his forehead and the dried blood at the rim of his nostrils. 

“What?” She asked, surprised. “Was it a vision?” Her eyes flicked to Shiro who looked at the two of them, puzzled. “Does he know? Wait,” Pidge eyes widened, “What happened to Shiro?” Keith watched as Pidge took in his new appearance, her emotions visible while Keith internalized his own for another time.

“We can explain... vaguely,” Shiro said, shrugging his backpack off and putting it on their table.

Pidge settled back in her chair, taking in Shiro’s changed appearance and eyeing his arm in alarm. She had specific questions that needed answers, but she refrained for now. “What did you find out? In the vision?”

“Well, first,” Keith took off one strap, swinging his back to the front of his body, tugging out the list of names and descriptions of the people who died in Black Manor. “These are the people who have died in the manor, it’s not a complete list but it’s what we need.” Pidge took the paper from Keith, annoyed that Keith didn’t get a full list of names. “Take a look what was starred.”

Keith watched as Pidge read the list, eyes moving across the page at a fast pace. She flipped the paper around and the name at the top of the list on the back, next to a crudely drawn star, was _Takashi Shirogane_.

Pidge looked at Keith, then to Shiro, then to the list.

“I know, right?” Shiro laughed, hiding his nerves. “It caught me by surprise too.” 

Pidge opened up a document, typing out the list Keith wrote. “What else did you find?”

Shiro took his seat on his bean bag while Keith pulled out his computer chair, the two of them digging into their backpacks for their notes. Shiro was the first to speak, unfolding the glasses that hung on his shirt and put them on.

“Black Manor was built in 1896 and first started as a boarding school for children ages three to sixteen. Then during the war, it turned into a hospital with no known deaths until finally in the early 1900s, a wealthy family bought the property. The family was prosperous well into the 1940s, having six generations live in the home until it was abandoned.” Shiro flipped a page. “I found the plans on a database and sketched them out.” Shiro passed around the notebook, Pidge and Keith committing the floor plan to memory. Shiro was meticulous while sketching; he had a scale and wrote down the length and width of each room, marked where all the doors and windows were and doodled the chandelier where it hung.

“I was reading through some newspapers and learned about a fire that destroyed the back part of the manor. At first, it seemed to be an accidental fire but a couple of days later, a woman who worked at the manor said that the fire was started on purpose as retaliation for a murder.” Keith handed the notebook to Pidge, letting her read the article he wrote down.

“But it was never confirmed,” Pidge finished reading, “That is certainly suspicious, but how does this explain your vision or Shiro’s appearance?” She asked, typing away on her laptop.

“After I found Shiro’s name in the article, I talked to the spirit using the name ‘Takashi’.” Keith looked to Shiro, who was listening to the conversation intensely, hands folded on his lap. Keith’s eyes flicked from his white hair down to his arm, the guilt nagging him again. “I made Shiro read that specific article and I saw a shadow pass over his face,” Keith waved his hand over his face, showing the motion of the shadow, “and I watched his arm turn black and hair turn white,” he explained, Pidge humming at the new turn of events.

“After that, I addressed the spirit directly,” Pidge stopped typing, giving Keith her full attention, “I asked it to let me help and before I knew it, I was in a vision.” 

“What happened?” 

Keith leaned back in his computer chair, closing his eyes and reliving the vision as best as he could under his eyelids. “I started off in a small dining room, then I saw smoke coming from behind the door. I had to shoulder it open but when I entered,” Keith took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He felt Shiro’s hand on his knee, grounding him onto this plane. “I saw people being burned alive.” He heard Pidge’s whispered _Oh my god_ and felt Shiro squeeze his knee a little too hard. “I saw a body on the ground being burned and I booked it, but I slipped in blood and when I tried again, that body yanked on my ankle. I felt myself being burned alive as he held me there and when I went to run again, he pulled me back and I saw...” Keith put a hand to his chest, clutching his shirt and squeezing his eyes, reliving the moment vividly, smelling the flesh and the sick thickness of the blood. “I felt myself being stabbed over and over and…” His body began to shake, his breath becoming short. He would have choked on his words if he continued. 

“Enough.” Shiro’s voice pulled him back, and Keith opened his eyes. Pidge offered him a cold water bottle. He said his thanks, taking it and drinking as she leaned against the table, arms folded. Shiro let go of Keith’s leg. Keith felt cold.

“Listen, Keith,” Pidge said seriously, the atmosphere going from uneasy to tense, “I don’t think we know what we’re up against here. If you saw all of that, and if there’s a possibility that the ghost that may be haunting Shiro was murdered, and since the ghost hasn’t done anything harmful – or should I say painful? – to Shiro yet, then there’s gotta be something else in that house.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” Shiro beat him to his question.

Pidge pulled out her phone from her pocket and a small writing pad from her hoodie pocket, awkwardly flipping to the page she was looking for while finding the photos that went with her research.

“I talked to some people around campus, and I got multiple people reporting poltergeist activity, someone even captured Class A EVP’s on their cell phones.” 

“What?!” Keith exclaimed, shocked.

“I know!” Pidge threw her hands in the air, pages ruffling at the sudden motion. “The first person I spoke to said a lamp was thrown across the room, look,” she lowered her hands and faced her phone toward Shiro and Keith, who peered at the grainy video. For a few seconds, Keith couldn’t see anything except an empty room when suddenly, a lamp flew directly toward the camera and the recording cut off. “The guy was pretty adamant in saying that he and his friends weren’t doing anything aside from drinking. Then – get this – one of the Biology professors went in there with a Mexican-American studies professor and when they were walking up the stairs, they both were pushed back down before they got to the top step,” Keith remembered a school story about to professors injured in the accident, but he didn't bother to read into it. Neither did Pidge. “They weren’t badly hurt, just injured enough to miss two class days and sport wrist braces.” Pidge swiped to the left, showing a photo of two teachers wearing wrist braces. “And that isn’t the worst story.” 

“It gets worse?” Shiro said in disbelief.

Pidge nodded. “My brother’s friend Allura went into the mansion with two of her friends and when they got there, Allura’s friends didn’t follow her in and waited outside. This chick went in alone,” Pidge said in awed disbelief, “She said she walked into the dining room and entered the servant’s dining area before hearing a loud banging noise and started recording.” Pidge turned the volume up on her phone and played the next video, the group hearing Allura talk.

“So I just heard loud banging noises, and I’m hoping to hear them again,” her British accent came out on the last word, “I heard this place was haunted and –” Beside her, an old chair fell backward, startling Allura who in turn shook the camera from her fright. “The chair just fell, okay, so,” she laughed nervously, walking away from it and making her way back to the door. As she was walking, the audio captured the noises this time and was accompanied with a deep, demonic voice saying _Go away._ Keith resisted the urge to reach out and rewind and instead, leaned forward, squinting his eyes and looking at where she was at. The foyer.

“I’m out,” Allura reached for the doorknob and turned, but she wiggled it, shoving the door on its hinges. “Guys? This isn’t funny. Romelle, Bandor, open this door.” She tried pushing the door open, making it shake on its hinges. She banged on it now, panicking. “Guys! Please!”

“We’re trying!” Allura let go of the doorknob and Keith and Shiro could hear the sound of someone ramming against the door. “Stand back, Allura.”

Allura took a step back and screamed before her phone fell to the floor, the camera shutting off.

“What happened to her?” Shiro asked. 

“She was attacked.” Pidge swiped left again, and Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

“Jesus Christ.”

The photo was of Allura’s scarred back: five claw marks raced down her back from the top right to her bottom left. The scars had puckered at the edges, leaving stark reddish-brown scars on her dark brown skin.

Pidge pushed up her glasses. “You need to think about this seriously, Keith.” Pidge’s eyes flicked to Shiro’s briefly before returning to Keith’s. “We could get seriously injured. You could get seriously injured.” She stressed _you,_ and Keith still didn’t consider backing out.

“I’m not backing down from this case,” he said stubbornly. Keith wasn’t afraid of getting injured. His main priority was helping Shiro rid his body of the spirit latching onto him. He didn’t care about an asshole ghost or the possibility he might add another scar to his collection; he was going to see this through. “I’m all in, Pidge.” He looked her in the eyes. “Are you?”

The two friends looked at each other, having an argument at the forefront of their expressions and after a minute of tense silence, Pidge rolled her neck to the side, sighing.

“Ride or die, Keith.” They fist bumped and Shiro finally spoke.

“Listen, guys, you don’t have to --”

“Shut up,” Pidge cut him off, but it held no bite, “We here at the Paranormal Investigation Club,” she raised her hand up, holding up three fingers and touching her pinky to her thumbnail, “Vow not to leave no haunt unturned, house untouched or ghost suffering in the realm of the living. We have a duty to help our country, the dead and ourselves.”

Shiro was laughing the whole time she said it, Keith hiding his smile behind his hand. “You butchered that hard, Pidge,” he said, wiping a tear from his eyes. Pidge stuck out her tongue.

“I was in the boy scouts with Matt until they figured out I was his sister and not brother. They kicked us both out. Troop Leader Iverson was very adamant about not letting a Holt become a scout ever again.”

“Oh man, that does sound like Iverson.”

Keith cleared his throat. “Anyway,” Shiro and Pidge looked at him, “Since we are all in this together, we need to make a plan.” He spun around in his chair, grabbing his notebook and pen and opening to a new page. 

“Well, how many people are we going to have is the first question.” Pidge brought her hand to her chin, forming an ‘L’ and resting her chin in the curve.

“Well, Lance and Hunk said they were willing to help out. They said they had their own equipment.”

Keith pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocking it and creating a group chat with him, Lance and Hunk. 

“Are you texting them?” 

“Yup.” Keith sent a text asking about their equipment and immediately got a response. He read their equipment out loud. “A regular video camera, night vision camera, thermal camera, voice recorder, EMF meter and electric thermometer.” Keith raised his eyebrow reading the text message Hunk sent. “Looks like Hunk has the same software you use for video and audio feeds, Pidge.”

“Great, that makes things easier.” 

Keith wrote down a list of what Lance and Hunk had, and then the equipment the P.I.C had, which was a much shorter list.

“First, we need an EMF meter,” Pidge started, jumping up onto the table, “A thermal camera would be fantastic.”

“I think walkie-talkies are needed.” Shiro offered. Keith and Pidge looked at him, and he shrugged. “I’m assuming we’re all splitting up once we get inside the house and I don’t want our only source of communication to be shrieks of terror, especially since one of us is more sensitive to spirits.” Keith made eye contact with Shiro, who only shot him a knowing smile. Keith stuck his tongue out childishly for a second, making him chuckle. 

“Fair point,” Pidge said. “So walkie-talkies, and we should probably buy five of them since Lance and Hunk are joining us. I know they’re strangers but we’re responsible.” Keith nodded, adding a _x5_ next to walkie-talkies on the list, and scribbling _Voice Recorder x2_ on there as well. 

“We’ll need more tripods, and batteries for everything,” Shiro said, attempting to calculate the cost of external batteries for cameras as well as AA batteries. Keith didn’t even want to think about how much begging and dignity it would take to get Coran to funnel at least $100 into the club fund.

“We’ll have to present Coran everything we learned so far, even Shiro,” Keith told them. “He’s pretty fickle about club funds.”

Pidge waved her hand, back and forth, making a _pssh_ noise with her mouth. “Who needs him? We have a patron.” 

“A _what?”_ Keith asked, making sure he heard right. _A patron?_ As in, someone who could give them money that's not from the school? 

“That girl, Allura, offered to donate $1,000 to the club if we promise to get revenge on the ghost that attacked her. Plus, I’m Matt’s _brave and lovely_ younger sister,” Keith faked gag, causing Shiro to laugh. Pidge flicked a random crumb she found on the table at Keith and missed. “I just need to tell her when.” 

Keith daydreamed about the day he had unlimited funds to buy the club (and himself) equipment and had several cameras and readers bookmarked on his laptop from the electronic shop in the nearest city.

“I got a couple cameras already bookmarked.”

“Nerd.”

Keith ignored her quip. “And since we want to do this as soon as possible,” Keith motioned at Shiro’s hair and arm, “There’s an electronics shop two hours outside of Garrison. I can drive there tomorrow after my last class. 

“I’ll go with,” Shiro offered, “Since you guys are doing all of this, I figured I can be the one to at least drive out there. We can take my car.” Pidge gave Keith a knowing look that Shiro saw, making him turn red. “I’m just saying.” He said lamely.

Keith coughed to hide his embarrassment. “That’s fine, Shiro. My truck wouldn’t make the drive out anyway.”

“How convenient.” Keith sent Pidge a pointed _Shut up_ telepathically, and it only made her smug. “While you guys do that I’ll be typing up the Black Manor information into a cohesive report for Coran; he’ll be wanting to hear from us by now since we haven’t made a blog post in a while because of exams.” Keith nodded.

The rest of the day, the three of them spent hours researching equipment, costs, and reading reviews of said equipment in forums and other store websites before deciding on exactly what they could buy that wasn’t too high tech but also wasn’t going to be “a pain in the ass”, as Keith put it, months down the line. When they got everything they wanted in their cart, a few items being used, the total was $776.52 for five used “good condition” walkie-talkies, a new EMF reader, two new voice recorders, an external battery, a “gently used” charging port, five packs of batteries and a small used “brand new” thermal camera. Keith clicked the “in-store pickup” box and thanked whoever was listening that Alfor’s Electronics had a quality assurance check where customers can test out the equipment before buying.

At two in the morning, the three left the club room and walked back to their homes with tired eyes. When Shiro and Keith parted ways with Pidge, Shiro followed Keith home, but Keith wasn’t going home. 

Keith walked right up to the gates of Black Manor, gazing up at the ominous promise of rain and watching as the vines rustled against the black building. The wind was cool despite the constant heat and Keith could smell the rain, fresh. The two stood in silence, Keith studying each window with a calculated thought. 

“Keith?” Shiro broke the silence, stepping up to stand beside him. Keith’s attention turned to Shiro and looking up, Keith couldn’t make out his expression in the cloud-covered night. “I never really officially said it, but I’m really grateful for you,” Keith looked away, butterflies unfurling in a frenzy in his stomach. “You took my case, and despite what it brought, you’re still helping me. And I’m just,” his voice caught in his throat and Keith turned his head, fast. Shiro was gazing up at the Manor and despite the dark of the night, Keith could see the gloss of his eyes in the dim lighting from the street lamps behind them. Without notice, Shiro looked down at him, a small smile adorning his tired features. “You’re really amazing.”

Keith didn’t know how to respond and instead of replying, Keith turned to look at the Manor again, walking up to the gate and clutching a warm iron bar. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, the fluttering feeling in his stomach making its way to his cheeks. Keith felt Shiro place his hand on his shoulder, Shiro lightly squeezing it.

“I mean it, Keith,” he said sincerely. Keith only nodded, not knowing how to respond.

Keith kept his gaze fixed on Black Manor and the more he looked, the dizzier he got. A wave of nausea flooded Keith violently. He put his other hand on the iron bar of the gate, the bile rushing from his stomach and up his throat. Keith turned his head, exposing a painful expression to Shiro as he swallowed his lunch again.

“Keith?” Shiro’s hand moved from his shoulder to his back, rubbing soothing circles into it. Keith tried latching onto the feeling of Shiro’s hand, but he couldn’t. Slowly, Keith looked up to the Manor and fear iced his blood. Keith met vivid, glowing purple eyes in the second story window. Keith got the feeling that if he looked away, he’d be torn to shreds. Keith heard Shiro say his name again, and something else, but he could only hear a low ringing sound in his ears. Keith took in a painful breath, slowly inhaling as he let his eyes slip closed. As he let out a long exhale, he slowly opened his eyes and the purple eyes were gone.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked and when Keith met his gaze, he knew hiding behind an “I’m fine” wasn’t going to cut it.

“No,” he replied. Keith slowly let go of the gate; it squeaked at the shift in weight.

“What happened? Another vision?” Keith shook his head, letting the last of the nausea roll off of him. Keith took a step back from the Manor, not bothering to take another look. The creepy feeling of someone watching him chilled him to his bones, but he brushed it off when Shiro offered to walk him home.

The streets were empty aside from the occasional stray cat. The Manor slowly disappeared behind them and even out of its range, Keith could not relax. He could still feel the glowing eyes watch his every move and when he looked over his shoulder, he imagined a black figure in the should of the street light. He could feel Shiro’s concern radiating off of him and the moment the two reached Keith’s street, Keith realized he didn’t want to be alone. Keith could feel static beneath his hoodie and hear his pulse in his ears. At this point, he was sure his eyes were dilated. He was holding onto his backpack straps a little tighter, his eyes darting across the empty street and expecting to see something. He couldn’t shake whatever was following him home, and he hoped the cross above his front door left the spirit stranded. Keith didn’t want to ask Shiro to stay with him, to walk him all the way to his door and spend the night because he was scared of a phantom. Keith was silently preparing himself for the almost-jog home, immediately crawling into bed and dealing with the feeling of being watched until dawn until Shiro entered his thoughts.

“Hey, I know I might be overstepping, but…” Keith was suddenly aware of how nervous Shiro was and in turn, how nervous he was. “I was wondering if I can walk you to your door.” Without looking at him, Keith nodded, staring down his street only to see the black figure again. Keith blinked hard, forcing the image from his mind.

He swallowed before croaking out a, “Yeah.”

Shiro walked him the five houses down the street to his doorstep, the sound of crickets and the rumble of thunder filling the night.

“Do you –”

“Would you like to –”

They stopped, looked at each other and let out a nervous laugh.

Shiro scratched his neck, looking up towards the sky. “It might rain,” he reasoned.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, feeling the smallest droplet of water hit his nose, “Would you like to spend the night?”

Silence.

Shiro studied Keith’s expression, making sure he wasn’t putting Keith in an awkward position and when he couldn’t find any reason to decline, he nodded. With that, Keith turned and opened the door just as it began to drizzle. 

The boys walked into Keith’s cool house, the A/C kicking on when they entered. Keith became hyper aware of his scarce living room and nearly empty kitchen. He didn’t bother turning on the light until he got to the hallway, making sure to lead Shiro in silence. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge his living condition, but at least he still had a fully furnished bedroom. When he turned on the light, the maroon of his room muted the yellow of his ceiling light. Shiro took in all his paranormal memorabilia that littered the walls haphazardly as he shrugged off his backpack, the most iconic of them being the “I WANT TO BELIEVE” poster that was plastered above Keith’s headboard. 

As Shiro was looking around, Keith pulled out the futon mattress that laid at the bottom his closet, Shiro helping him when Keith made a grunting noise. Keith patted down the mattress next to his bed before kicking his way to his dresser and pulling out his old work out clothes.

“Here, not too sure if they’ll fit you, but it’s better than sleeping in a sweaty t-shirt and jeans.” Shiro thanked him and Keith pointed to the bathroom just outside his door. When he heard it close, he quickly stripped down to his underwear, fishing out the _Ghost Adventures_ shirt that Pidge gave him last year and slipping on a pair of red basketball shorts. He managed to get most of his junk off the floor and onto shelves when Shiro returned. Keith’s _Linkin Park_ shirt was a tight fit. Shiro held up the shorts sheepishly, almost covering the fact he was only in his black boy shorts.

“Thanks, for letting me stay over,” he said as a crack of thunder shook the house.

“I don’t think I’d be the same if I let you walk home in the rain,” Keith replied, taking the shorts and shoving them into the drawer.

Shiro made his way to the futon as Keith turned out the lights, lightning briefly illuminating the room. Keith made his way to his bed as Shiro laid down, and Keith was keenly aware of his single comforter and the heavy rain.

When he was nestled in bed, Keith closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he said, “Hey Shiro?”

The rain pattered on the roof and pelted the window. “Yeah?”

“Mind if I come down?”

Keith heard Shiro move, and he took it as a sign to lower himself on the futon, dragging his comforter along with him. Shiro grabbed one edge of the comforter and pulled it over his shoulder, but made sure Keith had most of it before facing outward. When Keith settled in on his back, he listened to Shiro’s breathing, letting himself slowly be pulled into Shiro’s rhythm with the sound of rain as a comfortable background noise.

At some point in the night, Shiro had turned over, his arm draping over Keith’s waist. Keith sleepily welcomed the warmth, nuzzling into Shiro’s chest. Neither of them had a fitful sleep but instead, dreamed of each other.


	6. Supply Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second piece of art appears here!

The next morning, Keith’s joints were stiff as he waited for Shiro to come back from his house. The sun was already over the horizon and the warm humid morning annoyed Keith to no end, but he tried not to let it dampen his mood. Earlier that morning, Keith had woken up in strong arms and nuzzled into a _very_ strong chest. He had forgotten he let Shiro spend the night, and that he agreed to sleep on the futon with him. Now, Keith had a shirt and blanket that smelled like Shiro and he pointedly threw both items in his washer this morning, the second-hand embarrassment flooding him the moment Shiro left at the crack of dawn.

Keith yawned as Shiro pulled up to the curb, car stalling as Keith made his way into the passenger side. Shiro greeted him with a cheerful “Good Morning,” earning a yawn from Keith in response.

Shiro laughed. “Not really a morning person are you?”

Keith blinked, letting his head fall back onto the seat. Shiro had the P.I.C hat Pidge gave him dangling from his rearview mirror. “Not really. Mornings aren’t my thing.” 

“Likewise,” with that, Shiro slipped on the shades that were clipped to his sun visor, its reflective lenses glittering in the morning light as they drove to campus. Once there, Shiro dropped Keith off in the main cul-de-sac that opened to the heart of campus. 

Shiro peered from over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’ll meet you in the club room after my last class.” Keith nodded, yawning as he waved his goodbye and headed for the club room and when he got there, Pidge was on her laptop, sipping on a hot cup of coffee.

Keith ignored her as she looked at him, then at the time, then at him again. He dropped his bag next to the bean bag chair before he threw himself on it, letting himself be consumed completely by the chair.

“I knew the rain was predicting something ominous, but I didn’t know it was predicting you being awake before noon. I didn’t have time to prepare myself.” Keith lifted his middle finger to her, making her snicker before returning to what she was doing. 

Keith slept until one o’clock, Pidge gently nudging his leg before leaving for class. Keith stretched out on the beanbag before getting up and leaving, taking the coffee Pidge prepared for him and going to his Metaphysical Theory class, then his Advance Psychology class and ending the day at 5:30 PM, walking back to the club room after his technical writing course.

Yesterday had caught up to him during his classes; his migraine made the lights brighter and sounds louder. The coffee made his headache worse, but it was the only thing keeping him remotely awake. During his walks to his classes, Keith kept seeing the figure in his peripheral, but he refused to acknowledge the phantom in the daylight.

After his classes, Keith dragged himself across campus and into the Communication Building, taking the flight of stairs down to the basement level and walking down the narrow hallway to the club room. He could hear Pidge’s laughter as he opened the door, seeing his friends crowd around Pidge’s laptop. Shiro looked up from the screen, walking around Pidge and helping Keith into his chair.

“You look awful,” Pidge said without tact. She spun in her chair and grabbed a water bottle from their mini fridge, tossing it over. Shiro caught it before it could hit Keith in the face. 

“Just tired,” he told her.

Shiro twisted the cap off, handing Keith the bottle as he said, “Did you not sleep well?”

Pidge was watching Keith with an amused expression. He didn’t bother to look at her. 

“I did,” he said carefully, “but something’s been bothering me since last night,” Keith took a drink of the water, the cold slightly waking him up. They waited for him to explain, but when he didn’t Pidge returned to her laptop.

Shiro sat gingerly on the edge of the table, it creaking under his slight weight. “Are you still up for going to the shop?” Keith nodded. “Do you have your medication?” He nodded again, slightly wincing at the movement of his head.

“What time is it?”

“6:38.” 

Keith sighed before getting up and shrugging his backpack back on.

“Alright, let’s go. Pidge did Allura give you the money?” Pidge slide a pre-paid VISA card across the table, the bold white text on the upper right reading $500-$1000. Keith took a look at the card and shoved it unceremoniously into his worn leather wallet. “We’ll probably be back around midnight.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” Pidge sent a knowing look to Shiro, who missed it by zipping up his own backpack. Keith mouthed her name but she only shrugged. “I’ll be here all night, rereading what you guys gathered and plotting out places where we can put the equipment.”

“You could invite over Hunk and Lance if you get lonely,” Keith laughed when Pidge stuck out her tongue.

“I already texted them and they’ll be over after their evening shift,” she said, “Now go to the shop before it closes.” 

Shiro spun his keys into his hands and slung his bag over his shoulder. The two said their goodbyes and made their way to the commuter parking lot, talking about the dying heat of the day and the promise of stars in the night sky from the passing storm. Once inside the car, the two drove off toward the outskirts of their town, the sun setting a violent red and cool blues replacing them. Shiro put on his sunglasses while Keith pulled and adjusted the visor.

Thirty minutes into the drive, Shiro spoke. “You can go to sleep if you want,” Shiro said, eyes on the empty desert road, “I’ll wake you up once we get into the city.” 

Keith shook his head, leaning back into the seat. “I’m good, plus if I fall asleep, who says you won’t do the same?” he teased. 

Shiro chuckled. “Fair point. Plus, the roads at night make me uneasy,” Keith nodded, understanding.

“When I went into the city to get my spirit box, I was driving back around midnight. Pidge was asleep and it was just me and the empty road, or so I thought,” Keith put his hands behind his head casually, riding the memory, “Through my rearview mirror, I saw a car behind me flashing their headlights. I figured something was wrong so I pulled over.” A chill went up Shiro’s spine as they passed an abandoned car. Keith noticed it too. “The car pulled up behind me, but when the driver didn't get out, I did. I got this weird sinking feeling and when I stepped closer, the car shut off. The window was rolled down but when I shined my phone’s light in the car, no one was in there.” 

“What did you do?” Shiro asked, eyes briefly looking at Keith before returning to the road.

Keith shrugged. “Nothing. Got in my truck and left. Pidge had called a tow service for it, but I don’t know what happened to that car. I didn’t feel anyone it.” Keith rubbed his forehead at the memory, sighing, “It was one of those weird ‘I can’t explain it’ moments.”

“Do you get those often?”

Keith hummed. “No, but outside of the Garrison, I get a lot of weird experiences. New ghosts, new sightings.”

“Sounds fun,” Shiro said, smiling. Keith laughed.

They reached a comfortable silence well into the night drive. Keith could see the stars sprawl across the night sky, seeing the faintest hint of the Milky Way. Shiro was playing a rock band Keith didn’t recognize, and when the two passed the last small town and the city lights were glowing on the horizon, Shiro spoke: 

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” 

Keith’s stomach did a flip before he answered a cool, “Nah.”

Shiro was silent for a while, thinking. Keith watched as his demeanor changed until his eyes flickered from the road to Keith’s, but he wasn’t looking at him, more of observing his eyes. “I was wondering how you can see ghosts.” Shiro sounded like he had more to say, but left it at that.

Keith dropped his hands into his lap, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t really know how to explain it; when he was talking to Pidge about it, she believed him through hard evidence, of Keith proving to her that a ghost was nearby by saying its name and interacting with it. What they caught on film was the icing on the cake.

“I’m not too sure how I can see them,” he started, “Pidge thinks it’s because of my eyes since they’re an odd color,” Keith couldn’t think of one person who had purple eyes naturally. From what he remembered of his parents, both of them had brown eyes, even his aunt. “No one really has purple eyes, it’s kind of a weird color to have.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Shiro said softly, “Your eyes are beautiful.” 

Keith flushed, coughing into his hand before continuing. “Thanks.” Keith pushed his bangs behind his ear, a short strand swinging back in front of his eye. “I thought I just might be sensitive to these sort of things, like how kids and animals are sensitive to the paranormal at a young age. That’s why when you see horror movies or watch people’s stories on television, they talk about their kid or their dog seeing something that wasn’t there. But then I started having visions and the headaches that came with them. I had to get migraine medication because of my abilities, but even then, it’s a 50/50 chance the medicine will do anything.”

“What was your first vision?”

Keith clenched his fist, wondering if the memory was worth reliving. He looked to Shiro, whose eyes were on him, nothing but pure curiosity – and concern? – hidden in the onyx. Relaxing his hands, Keith said, “It happened before I saw my mother’s ghost.” Keith closed his eyes, the vision burning at the front of his memory as he replayed it beneath his eyelids.

He was smaller, reaching for the brass doorknob of his front door when suddenly, he was taller and in his mother’s bedroom. Through her eyes, Keith saw his mother combing through her long, thin black hair. Her face was angular and young, lips a cherry red and eyes a rich chocolate brown. Her wall clock in the mirror had read 9:15 AM, ten minutes after Keith would have left for elementary school. Suddenly, something pulled his mother to the front door and when she opened it, Keith could feel a man in front of her, but he didn’t know who. He couldn’t see through her eyes in that moment until she shut the door again. Sadness washed over him as his mother made her way to the kitchen, the heavy pain in her heart weighing her down with every step.

Once in the kitchen, she had pulled a chair from the dining table, dragging it across the tile until leaving it in front of the chipped kitchen counter. Keith saw her pull the utility rope from the far left drawer.

He forced the memory back, painfully returning it to the recesses of his mind. He didn’t want to relive that vision; not in front of Shiro, at least.

“I think the vision was of her final moments,” Keith said, voice barely above a whisper. Shiro’s right hand found its way to Keith’s thigh, the black completely covering his forearm. Shiro rubbed apologetic circles with his thumb and waited. Keith focused on the touch. “Pidge and I decided that I have some sort of ‘psychic powers’,” he air quoted using his fingers, “but I’m not going around and calling myself –”

“A psychic?” Shiro joked, lightening up the mood as they entered the city limits.

Keith scoffed, the noise turning into a chuckle. “Yeah. I figured I’m just a paranormal buff that’s in-tune with spirits.”

“I bet ghost hunters would flock to you if they knew you had that sort of talent,” Shiro said, but humor covered the compliment. He knew Keith hated most of the big name ghost hunters, but their interest in the paranormal is what got Keith started. It was a hard double-standard to live with. 

“No doubt.” The boys laughed. 

Shiro stopped at a streetlight, handing his phone to Keith to input the location to the electronics shop. They followed the GPS well into the city, passing by illuminated sky scrapers, gas stations, hotels and night clubs. People bustled on the street and by the time they made the twenty-minute drive across town, they had two hours to spare before Alfor’s Electronics closed.

Alfor’s Electronics was an off-white, warehouse-like building past the main part of downtown. A neon blue sign above double glass doors buzzed ALFOR’S ELECTRONICS in a script font, the light from the apostrophe stuttering every so often. Shiro parked in one of the front parking spaces, the parking lot nearly empty as they made their way inside. The layout of the store was an organized mess: newer products were placed on shelves near the front while used and out-of-date items came after. Registers were open near the front but a large sign toward the back read ONLINE PICK-UP in bold red font. Keith made his way back, awkwardly waving to a few workers as they walked.

“You really are popular, Keith,” Shiro laughed as Keith turned red, pointedly telling Shiro to “Shut up” with no bite. Most of the workers at Alfor’s Electronics knew of Keith and his hobby. The owner has a small printed advertisement on the front doors that held the two URLs of P.I.C.’s blog and YouTube channel with a bad screenshot of him and Pidge. Keith thought it was because he uses equipment exclusively from this place, not because the owner and staff actually watched and read every update with fervor.

“Keith!” A cheerful voice greeted. Shiro watched as Keith awkwardly smiled at the older man behind the counter. His long white hair was braided behind him, dark skin contrasting against the white and blue uniform of the electronics store. “I was wondering when you’d be by; We always look forward to doing business with you.”

“Thanks,” Keith said awkwardly, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his email for the digital receipt. “P.I.C made some purchases last night, we’re here for pick up.” Keith watched as Alfor’s eyes went to him to Shiro, surveying the stark white hair and black arm with a neutral smiling face.

“Of course,” Alfor took Keith’s phone and scanned the barcode in his email before handing it back, “Would you like to test out the equipment before final purchase?”

“Yes.”

Alfor disappeared behind a swinging door. A few minutes later he came out carting a large basket with boxed products, and Keith immediately recognized the EMF reader on top along with the thermal camera.

“Are you prepping for something big or stocking up?” Alfor asked, lining the boxes up on the white check-out counter.

Keith reached for the thermal camera before answering. “Both.” Keith unboxed the thermal camera as Shiro reached for two of the walkie-talkies enclosed in zip-lock bags.

“Is that why you and Pidge haven’t been updating?” Keith’s eyes went to Shiro briefly, Alfor following his gaze and nodding. Alfor leaned in closer as the loud buzzing of the walkie-talkies filled their immediate surroundings. “Is he why? He doesn’t look the type for solid tattoos and dyed hair.”

“Something like that,” Keith answered, “Pidge and I managed to get him and two other people for our next case. We’re going to be investigating Black Manor Sunday night.” Keith turned on the thermal camera, waiting for it to warm up as vibrant hues covered the screen. Keith went into settings, clicking on each menu before going back to the normal screen. Through the lens, Alfor was an orange, yellow-outlined being, with the inanimate objects being in cooler hues.

“Black Manor?” Alfor repeated. He went silent, making Keith look up. A dark look crossed his face. “You need to be careful if you’re going to that place.” Keith felt… _something_ and put the thermal camera down on the counter, slowly giving Alfor his attention. “My daughter went in there and came out with scratch marks on her back. She didn’t even know what did it. She had to use her cousin’s phone to call me.”

_There are no such things as coincidences._ “Are you… Allura’s father?” Keith asked. Shiro put the first two walkies back in the bags before reaching for the next ones. He had one ear in the conversation and the other on making sure the merchandise worked.

Alfor made a confused face, almost bewildered, before answering. “Yeah, I am. How did you know that?”

Keith kept the $1000 donation to himself. “She showed us the footage from her time at the Manor, along with the scars on her back. We promised we’d, uh,” Keith looked to Shiro for something better than “get revenge”.

“Exorcise the ghost that hurt her,” Shiro finished, “And if Keith doesn’t do it,” Keith shot him a look, but Shiro’s expression was serious, “I will. Whatever happened to her is different, but,” Shiro raised his right arm, showing Alfor the black that stained his skin before running his hand through his white bangs, “Whatever is in that house has affected me too. I’m not going down without a fight.”

Alfor nodded, giving him a knowing look before turning to Keith. “I tell you what, Keith. Those batteries?” Keith subconsciously looked at the various packs of double AA and triple AAA batteries. Alfor turned his computer toward himself, clicking a few things and typing in something. “Free of charge. I know ghosts like taking up battery life, so you’ll go through them quickly and,” he dug around the self underneath the counter, pulling out a few more packs, “I’ll give you four more packs, two each. Just don’t let me down.” He said the last statement with a smile, but there was no humor in his voice.

Keith swallowed the nerves bubbling up his throat. The already crushing weight of this investigation increasing; not only did he have to save Shiro, but also completely rid the ghost from the manor. Keith didn’t know if he was capable of that, if at all. He was a pathetic college kid with a special interest in the paranormal and ghost hunting, a past-time that started off as something to do in a small town quickly becoming his livelihood. Keith ignored the suffocating weight and put on a mask. Shiro noticed.

“We’ll do everything we can,” was all Keith could manage to say.

Keith and Shiro went through all the products, only encountering a problem with the charging port. In the end, Keith opted for a pricier new one since the batteries were free. Alfor ran the gift card, telling Keith that he racked up enough loyalty points for a free t-shirt.

“Get it in his size.” Keith jerked his head to Shiro, who was only vaguely paying attention while trying to grab the bags so the equipment wouldn’t bump too much.

“What?”

Alfor laughed. “Thanks to Keith frequently shopping with us, he has an accumulation of loyalty points. What size shirt do you wear?” Shiro nervously glanced at Keith who was too busy reading the receipt.

“Uh, men’s XL.”

Alfor bent over, coming back up with a white shirt with ALFOR’S ELECTRONICS in a futuristic neon blue font. Keith thought it might have been the same font used in the TRON logo.

“Thanks,” Shiro took the shirt, draping it over his shoulder. He jokingly promised to wear it during the investigation which made Alfor laugh.

When Keith and Shiro were out of the store, Keith gave Shiro an amused look. “XL?” The shirt Shiro was wearing, a hunter green GU shirt, hugged Shiro’s torso nicely, the outline of his muscles visible through the fabric. “Didn’t think you owned an XL anything.”

Shiro side-eyed Keith playfully, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

Keith snorted before gesturing to Shiro’s chest. “There’s no way that’s an XL shirt. You’re not that buff, Shirogane.” Keith laughed as Shiro feigned hurt, his free hand over his chest and mouth agape.

“Well, Kogane,” Shiro was stepping closer, and Keith was trying to evade him, laughing, “Care to put that statement to the test?” The two put the bags in Shiro’s car, his half-threat still hanging between them.

“What do you mean?” Keith said, handing Shiro his bag so Shiro could it in the back seat. Shiro shut the door before turning around, a devilish smile on his face.

“I mean this!”

Shiro scooped Keith up, making the smaller man squeak as his feet lifted off the floor. Shiro took a few steps away from his car and into the cross hatching of the unloading space, throwing Keith over his shoulders as if he weighed nothing. Keith was laughing as Shiro spun around, his world becoming a blur of long streaks of light and the spinning of the asphalt. Keith held on tightly, gripping Shiro’s shirt, their laughter echoing in the empty parking lot.

“Still think I’m not buff, Kogane?” he asked, not even breaking a sweat.

Keith patted Shiro’s shoulder. “Alright, alright! You win.” Shiro stopped spinning, placing Keith down. Keith’s head was spinning, sticking out his arm to hold onto Shiro who seemed unfazed from the turns. Shiro steadied him, wiping Keith’s black hair from his face. Keith wiped the tears from his eyes and when he looked, Shiro’s aura was a vibrant lavender, the color warm and bright against their skin. The lavender reached up Keith’s arm, engulfing his own red; the two colors mixing until it was a rich plum.

“What’re you looking at?” Keith looked up at Shiro before letting go, the aura making it hard for Keith to pull away.

“Nothing,” Keith said. He was about to say something more until his stomach growled, loud and long. He flushed.

“Let’s go eat somewhere.”

The two got back into Shiro’s car, the radio busy playing a pop song as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Anywhere you want to go?” Keith didn’t have time to think about money before Shiro said, “I’ll pay.” The possibilities were endless.

Shiro’s car radio read 10:30, most restaurants closing or already closed, which left a wide variety of fast food options.

“Anything you really craving? Something that the Garrison doesn’t have?” Keith asked, leaning forward in his seat to peer at all the fast food signs, a large orange and white striped “W” peeking from behind a gas station sign. Keith looked to Shiro, who responded with a knowing glance.

“Whataburger,” they laughed in unison.

Shiro pulled into the packed parking lot, the two discussing various burger condiments as they waited for their turn in line. In the end, the two order a double-patty burger with everything on it, fries and two drinks: a coke and an orange soda. Keith ate a fry from the bag as Shiro pulled out, driving down the busy streets until taking the highway out of town.

“Are you okay with pulling over in a little while to eat?” Shiro asked, signaling into the right lane.

“Yeah.”

Shiro exited off the highway, going into the access road that turned into straight asphalt. It took him five minutes out of the city limits to pull over onto the desert road, leaving his car idle. The two exited the car and made their way to the front. Shiro’s car radio played pop music as Keith handed him his bag. His headlights beamed onto the dirt and sand that moved with the wind. Keith looked up into the night sky as he took his first bite into his burger.

“You know,” Shiro said through bites, “I use to come out here with my grandmother.” Keith saw a memory in Shiro’s glittering eyes. “Not here specifically, but out into the middle-of-nowhere, just to look up at the stars. She used to be an astronomer back in the day, and was the first in my family to graduate college with a degree.” Shiro took another bite, lifting a finger to point up. “Do you see those stars over there?” Keith tried following where Shiro was pointing, leaning back with one hand and gazing up. Keith saw a curvature of stars. “There’s that curve there, and if you follow it up, you can see it branch off into a ‘T’,” Keith followed the stars, and he did see it branch off. “That’s Scorpius. It’s one of three constellations I manage to remember my grandmother showing me.”

“What are the other two?” Keith stole the fry from Shiro’s hand.

“Ursa Major and Minor,” Shiro answered, taking his fry back before it disappeared into Keith’s mouth. Keith laughed.

“So, the big and little dippers,” he teased. Keith thought everyone knew those, but he was still impressed. Keith only knew how to find those two constellations; he could never make out Ursa Major and Minor.

Shiro looked at him, pleased. “So what you’re saying is, I know five constellations,” the two boys laughed.

“That’s five more than I know Shiro,” Keith said, “You already know my special interests.”

“Oh really, Mr. Gray?”

“ _Please,”_ Keith put a hand on his face, laughing, “That is so gross.”

Shiro chuckled, leaning back on his car, his hand grazing Keith’s finger tips. “Alright, so you like ghost hunting and hate 50 Shades of Gray. You drink orange soda, exclusively eat junk and fast food --”

“Are you grilling me?”

“Have super powers,” Keith laughed at that, “and have a big enough conscious to help spirits, even if they tried killing you by making you walk off a second-floor balcony or electrocuting you. You’re out of this world, Keith Kogane.”

Keith snorted, making Shiro laugh. “Thanks. And I don’t have super powers.”

“That sounds like something someone with super powers would say,” Keith hid his smile behind an airy sip of his empty drink, the sip loud and bubbling, “You can see ghosts, communicate with them, and have these… visions. You’re truly are one in a million, Keith.”

Keith felt the heat rising to his face, pink dusting his cheeks, neck, and ears. Keith hardly saw himself in a positive light, and sometimes thought his gifts were more of a burden. After years of suffering from headaches, nosebleeds, and forced visions, he would often wonder what it would be like to not see anything: no ghosts, no auras. He thought about the brown contacts that sat forgotten in his medicine cabinet and the sunglasses he used to wear excessively hanging from his lanyard on a peg in his bedroom.

“I’m nothing special,” Keith said, “Just some nobody from a small town.” Keith’s expression turned somber, eyes downcast and the hair he pushed behind his ear fell back over his face.

Shiro reached his hand out, hesitating to thread his fingers through Keith’s hair until he lowered his hand, placing it gingerly on Keith’s shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself the credit you deserve, Keith,” Shiro said softly, “I can see you work hard to help everyone, even if it’s past your means. I’ve read through every file and watched every video. You help people, Keith. You help them move on. You give families closure.”

Keith pursed his lips, still unsure. He couldn’t take the compliment, or see himself how Shiro saw him. Helping spirits came with the job. It’s not like he could have ignored them, anyway. “It’s really not that big a deal. I know you’d do the same.”

Shiro shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip of his coke. “Maybe, but I have yet to actually help a ghost.” He waved his right hand for emphasis, a lazy smile adorning his face. Keith scoffed, a small smile creeping to his features. “Takashi’s still a resident in my body.”

“We’re also working to get him out,” Keith said as he dragged Shiro’s hand down back to the car, second-hand embarrassment creeping up his neck. “We’ll help him, together. With Pidge, and Lance and Hunk.” At his touch, the black stain on Shiro’s hand shimmered a soft violet and pulsed, warm.

The two looked at each other, bewildered, then at the arm in a shocked silence. Shiro pulled up his sleeve, the purple illuminated their food and the hood of the car, the immediate area around them bathed in the violet. Keith squeezed Shiro’s wrist, and the violet flashed brightly. The two squinted, Keith looking away and Shiro raising his other arm to cover his eyes. The flash lasted only a few seconds, and when they looked at the arm again, the violet dimmed until it no longer radiated light.

“What was that?” Keith said almost in a whisper. Shiro shook his head. “Has it done that before?” Shiro shook his head again and slowly pulled away from Keith, inspecting his arm in awe. The two looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

They quickly finished eating in a thoughtful silence, tossing their trash into one bag and getting back in the car with it along with the final sips of their drinks. Keith was already feeling tired, his eyes beginning to burn and droop as Shiro drove down the empty road. He was comfortable in his seat, stomach full and emotions somewhat relaxed. He was still thinking about Shiro’s arm when they started driving again.

“My offer still stands,” Shiro said, turning off the radio.

Keith shook his head, shrugging. “’s fine,” Keith shifted to get his phone from his backpack, sending Pidge a text message that they were on their way back.  She sent him an eggplant emoji that he regarded with zero attention, and then another text saying that Lance and Hunk will arrive after their shift in two hours.

The two drove back to Garrison in a long silence, occasionally commenting on coyote howls and sharing folklore of the area, Keith ending with the fact that he still thinks he’s the Garrison cryptid.

“If someone told me there was a guy with long black hair who exclusively wore hoodies and skinny jeans in south Texas, I’d probably think the same way,” Shiro teased as they crossed the town a few minutes’ drive outside the Garrison. Keith scoffed, smiling while he tied his hair back in a messy ponytail.

“Pidge is the one that called me a cryptid,” Keith said, earning a laugh from Shiro. “When we were kids, we use to go exploring in the woods behind her house and one night we stayed out too late, and I ran into Matt.” Keith laughed at the memory of Pidge’s older brother. “He screamed so loud it scared the birds out of the trees.”

“You knew Pidge back then?”

Keith hummed. “We don’t go that far back, but it’s still pretty far back.” He explained. Shiro nodded, understanding. “I met her when I was eight exploring a house in a cul-de-sac that people were saying was haunted.”

“Sounds like you.”

Keith smiled. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t haunted, but I ran into Pidge, who was six at the time. She scared the shit out of me; I turned a corner into the living room and ran right into her. All she said was, ‘I thought something was in here, but I was expecting a ghost.’ It was a really weird encounter. And since then, we’ve been friends.”

“The rest is history,” Shiro commented. Keith laughed. “Did you always live in Garrison?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah. Born and raised in the Garrison.” Keith turned his head to the side, catching Shiro’s eyes for a moment before Shiro turned back to the road. “I take it you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” Shiro swerved the car to miss the roadkill in the middle of the lane. “I was born up in Dallas, then moved down to San Antonio when my dad passed away.” The atmosphere got heavy, but Keith didn’t say anything. “Graduated from high school over there and moved to Garrison for college.”

Keith turned his attention outside the window, seeing the green GARRISON CITY LIMITS sign. “Any specific reason to moving to Garrison? I mean, you’re definitely a city boy.”

Shiro laughed. “My grandmother lives up here, and the GU was a plus. I was ready to ditch the idea of college, but my Nana insisted I go instead of spending all day ‘bothering her’,” he air-quoted with his hand. 

“What’d your grandmother say about your appearance?” Keith asked, and wondering if he’d get an honest answer.

Shiro shrugged, suddenly thoughtful. “She didn’t say anything. Took one look at me and asked what was for dinner.”

Keith snorted, the sound making Shiro let out an airy chuckle. “Charming.”

They pulled into the parking lot closest to the Communication building, exiting the car with their trash and the equipment. Keith tossed the empty Whataburger bags in the first trash can he saw. Shiro held the building door open for him as they made their way down to the basement level, walking down the hallway and already, Keith could hear voices outside the P.I.C. club room.

Keith keyed it open, leaving the keys in the lock as he opened the door to the warm room. Hunk was leaning against the wall near their filing cabinet, Lance was sitting deep in the bean bag chair and Pidge in her designated computer chair. Keith moved to let Shiro walk past, and the two set the equipment carefully on the table.

“Nice of you guys to join us,” Lance said lazily, staring directly at Keith when he talked.

Keith ignored the gaze, taking the items out of the bag and piling them on the already-crowded table. Shiro followed suit and answered for him.

“Sorry we’re late, we stopped to get something to eat,” Shiro chuckled at Lance’s fake hurt.

“And you guys didn’t think to come to Caramel Cocina? I’m offended.”

_Good._

“We were out in the city for a while, I don’t think we could’ve made it back,” Shiro looked to Keith for confirmation, but the smaller man ignored him, turning around and leaning on the table, arms crossed.

“We’re going on Sunday night,” Keith said, the atmosphere in the room shifting, “Is that alright with everyone? Do you guys work?” He didn’t bother to look at Lance and instead held Hunk’s gaze until he answered.

“We get off at seven; it’s doable.”

“What time were you thinking?” Lance asked, and only then did Keith look into blue eyes.

“Setting up at 11, an hour before midnight,” he turned his head to Pidge, who clicked her pen and pulled out the journal from her stack that had the layout of Black Manor Shiro drew. “Pidge already mapped out places where we can place everything. We’re setting up base along the far side of the foyer near the supply closet.” Pidge tossed him the notebook and he caught it, holding it out so Lance and Hunk can look. Lance sat up straighter to look at the drawing.

Keith pointed at the kitchen, dining room and the living area. “We’re setting up cameras in these places, the thermal camera pointing outward into the foyer.”

“We’re not going to be in the den?” Lance asked, hand on his chin.

“We’re putting voice recorders in the Servants’ dining room and den. You guys can carry yours for communicating. I don’t want anyone alone during the investigation.” Keith’s eyes went to Pidge. “If there are ghosts in there capable of possession and scratching us, I’d feel a lot better if we investigated in teams. Hunk, you’re the audio man, right?” Hunk startled at his name being said.

He stuttered out an answer that seemed to be affirmative.

“Hunk will stay with Pidge at Base. Shiro, Lance and I will form a team of three for the investigation. After we set everything up and once everything is online, we start at the living area, taking the temperature and seeing if we can communicate with any spirits,” Keith didn’t want to think about going into the kitchen and opted to save it for last. “We can do a spirit box session in the foyer and again in the kitchen if we need to.”

“Why the kitchen?”

Keith looked at Shiro before looking at Lance. “I believe the spirit possessing Shiro died in there,” was all he said.

“During the investigation, I do not want anyone to provoke the spirits,” he said seriously, purple eyes looking around the room. “A lamp was thrown, people have been pushed down stairs and a girl was attacked unprompted. Don’t give them any reason to hurt you. I suggest you guys bring your own first aid kit, just in case.”

“Do you really think we’ll get hurt?” Hunk asked nervously.

Keith’s face softened but quickly shifted into a tight expression. “I can’t say for sure, Hunk. This is Black Manor. You can get a blessing down at the church if you want, but other than that it’s…”

“A part of the job,” Pidge finished, rolling her sleeves up and showing the faded scars on her arms. “I’m just the techie but spirits will mess with you either way. They don’t care who you are.” Hunk gulped down his nerves.

“You guys are welcome to leave the investigation at any moment for any reason,” Keith said, looking between Lance and Hunk. Lance narrowed his eyes, searching for malice. “You guys aren’t a part of this club and therefore are not required to stay the entire night. I make the calls when to pull out, but even then, I hardly abandon an investigation due to paranormal activity.”

“What, you think you’re braver than us? Better than us just because you’re the lead ghostbuster?” Lance asked, provoked. He took Keith’s words and twisted them.

“Hey,” Shiro stepped in, voice commanding, “We don’t, Lance. Several people were injured or almost injured in this building, myself included,” Lance’s heat fanned out as he looked at the white shock of hair and black arm Shiro had, “If something frightens you and you want to leave, we won’t stop you,” Shiro turned to Hunk, “Including you, Hunk. Safety is the priority here.”

_Getting the spirit out of you is the priority,_ Keith thought to himself.

Lance leaned back in the bean bag chair. “Alright. Are we meeting here and then going over or meeting at Black Manor?”

“Black Manor,” Pidge said instantly, “It’s better if you guys arrive in your own vehicle to hold your own equipment.”

“And in case we bail, right?” Lance raised an eyebrow.

Hunk raised his hand, but not high enough to reach over his head. “For the record, I’m already ready to bail.” Keith and Lance shot him a look and he sighed, lowering his hand.

“Did Coran get the permission to be on the property?” Keith looked to Pidge. She pulled out a few papers from under her laptop, waving them.

“Yeah, he just got the email a few minutes after you and Shiro left,” Keith nodded.

“Alright guys,” Shiro started, eyeing the clock in the room, the time reading almost three a.m., “I want everyone well prepared for this; bring any and all equipment, batteries and back up tech if you have it. We’ll provide walkie-talkies for everyone in the manor for communication purposes,” Lance breathed a sigh of relief, “Lance and Hunk, take a nap before going. The more tired you are, the easier it’ll be for spirits to latch onto you.” Lance and Hunk looked to Keith for confirmation. Keith nodded. “As I said before, safety is our top priority.”

“I’d worry more about our local ghost expert, Shiro,” the group eyed Keith. Keith burned under their gazes as he put the notebook behind him. “He’s the one that spirits flock to.”

“Worry about yourself.”

Lance let out a laugh that put Keith on edge. “Fair enough.” Lance threw himself up off the beanbag chair, rolling onto his feet and suddenly too close to Keith for comfort. “We’re heading out. Text us if you guys think of something else.” Lance walked out the door, Hunk following behind him.

When the door slammed shut, Pidge spoke.

“Do you think they’ll pull out?”

Keith exhaled. “I’m not sure but if they do,” Keith turned to Shiro, “Will you be okay with only us?”

Shiro nodded, placing a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with you until you give the call.”

“What did we do to deserve Takashi Shirogane?” Pidge asked, closing her laptop.

Keith chuckled at Shiro’s blush. “I ask myself the same thing, Pidge.”

The group of three spent the rest of the night adjusting the settings and reading the manuals for their equipment, placing in batteries and charging their external energy port and battery. The sun was creeping over the horizon as they finished up, placing the equipment under the table and draping Keith’s spare blanket over it before leaving the room, the keys still in the lock as Keith twisted it, hearing the click.

They walked across the empty campus, walking Pidge to the bike rack and giving her a sleepy goodbye and a promise to meet at Keith’s house at five for their pre-investigation ritual.

When Keith and Shiro were walking back to Shiro’s car, he asked, “What’s the pre-investigation ritual?”

Keith rubbed his eyes while answering. “We watch a movie and go over facts about the investigation. It’s mostly to settle our nerves before going into the major part of the investigation: actually investigating. You’re more than welcome to join us. Pidge usually brings snacks.”

Shiro thought about it as he unlocked his car. “If you don’t mind.”

“You’re officially part of the P.I.C.,” Keith nodded to the hat hanging on Shiro’s rearview mirror, “You’re welcome to our social gatherings.” Shiro laughed but only nodded.

Keith was dropped off on his curb, saying goodbye to Shiro with a sleepy nod before he entered his house. He dropped his bag off by the door, keys clattering down with it as he locked the front door and made his way to his room. The futon from when Shiro was over was still out, and Keith just stepped on it to make his way to his bed, throwing himself on it before finally falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very Texan.


	7. Entity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason for the tags! Proceed with caution!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no fixed chapter lengths in this fic I'm sorry LOL.

Keith pulled the futon mattress from his room down the hall for their little ritual, making sure to bring his two pillows and his comforter with it. Later that evening, he found himself leaning against Shiro’s outstretched arm, flipping through the notes they had gathered at the library. Shiro had his glasses perched on the tip of his nose and jacket sleeves rolled up, reading the report Pidge typed up about his case while Pidge stretched out her legs across the boys’ legs, laying down on the futon with her laptop on her chest. A bag of chips laid opened next to her, their various drinks and snacks on the floor around them. Keith’s laptop sat in front of his feet, the projector next to it. Beetlejuice was projected on the half-wall that separated the living room and kitchen. The three sat in a comfortable silence, reading through what they have gathered thus far.

“You really think this guy was stabbed to death, Keith?” Pidge asked, breaking the silence.

Keith flipped the page, reading the news articles he had transcribed. “Yeah, at least, that’s what I felt had happened. I don’t think the fire killed him.”

“I think he was stabbed as well,” Shiro added. Keith looked up from the notebook at the same time Pidge rolled herself up to look at Shiro. “Every time you mention it, I get this weird feeling in my chest,” Shiro subconsciously rubbed his chest with the hand holding the report, the paper scratching against his shirt, “Every time I use a knife, I drop it for some reason. Every time, it never fails; even plastic knives.” Keith and Pidge shared a confused look.

“Well, that’s… something,” Keith said, shrugging off Shiro’s arm and walking to his kitchen, opening a drawer and pulling out a basic cutting knife. He handed the knife to Shiro, handle first. 

Pidge moved her laptop onto the futon so she could hand Shiro her plate with a half-eaten sandwich. Keith looked down on him, noting Pidge taking out her phone to record Shiro. Shiro looked at the camera and then at Keith, who nodded with anticipation. Shiro sighed, indulging the two. He held the plate up, posing the knife to cut and as he was bringing it down, his hand started to shake, the black of his hand pulsed before the knife slipped from Shiro’s fingers, clattering onto the plate before falling onto his lap.

“Can you do it again?” Pidge asked, and he did, the same thing happening again. “That’s kinda funny.”

Shiro handed the knife back to Keith who left it on the counter before returning to his spot next to Shiro. He felt around the futon, finding his pen under Pidge’s leg and clicked it, writing on his notes about Shiro’s inability to hold knives.

“And this is recent, right? You weren’t clumsy before this?”

Shiro nudged Keith playfully, laughing while giving him a pointed look. “It is recent. I didn’t discover this until a few days ago, actually. I tried cutting watermelon.”

“Well, it adds to Keith’s belief that this guy was stabbed,” Pidge said, sending the video of Shiro dropping the knife to her email and saving it on her laptop. She opened the video software, dragging and dropping the clip into the already long video. “We might have to make the video a two-parter, Keith.”

“I thought we were good to make long videos?”

Pidge shrugged. “YouTube is fickle, plus I already have an idea on how to split it up: Everything up until now in the first part, and then the Livestream footage along with the review of it. We already recorded everything for the first part. I’ll just add text explaining Shiro’s knife predicament.”

Keith took a drink of his soda, shrugging. “Sounds good to me. That okay with you, Shiro?” Shiro nodded.

The three of them spent the rest of the night reading and half paying attention to the movies Keith put on. Pidge had managed to upload their thirty-minute long video, the description stating the second part was coming after the livestream. An alarm on Shiro’s phone went off at exactly 10:30 PM and the dread Keith had pushed back slammed into his stomach at full force. The group cleaned up Keith’s living room, shoving trash into plastic bags and half-eaten snacks onto Keith’s counter, Keith assuring Shiro that it’s fine to leave them out.

They walked into Keith’s room and gathered the equipment Keith had brought from the university that morning, double checking that everything worked. Pidge had found cases for the thermal camera, tripod and voice recorders. They carried the cases and placed them in Shiro’s trunk, putting the white folding table Keith left outside earlier that day in the back of his truck. Keith took his voice box from its place on his end table, grabbing the bag with the batteries and putting them in his backpack. He went around his room, double checking that all of the equipment was packed up and found their thermometer laying on his bed. He shoved it into the mesh netting on his bag and turned off the light. He took one last look in his room and stopped breathing.

He could see the outline of a black figure in the corner, watching him. Keith felt a chill run up his spine as it slowly opened its eyes. Black. Keith’s heart beat rapidly in his chest and shakily turned his light back on. The figure disappeared as the room filled with light. Where it was standing at was his floor lamp, the shade rimmed in dust from not being used. Keith shut off the light and closed his door, his knuckles white from tightly gripping the knob.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice came from down the hallway.

Keith slowly let go of the doorknob, his knuckles returning to their natural color.

“Everything alright?”

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Let’s go, Coran said he’d be there early to give us the key to the front gate.” Keith walked past Shiro, bumping his shoulder on his way out of the house. Shiro followed him out. Keith was locking his door when he heard Shiro start his car. We waved to Pidge to go with Shiro and she nodded, getting in the passenger seat with her backpack on her lap.

Keith got into his truck, placing his backpack on the passenger seat and took in a long, deep breath. He rolled his shoulders and let his head droop to one side. _This is it._

Keith turned on his truck, it spluttering to life. He drove the few blocks to Black Manor, pulling up a few feet behind Shiro’s idle car, his headlights catching Pidge and Coran on the sidewalk. He killed the engine, grabbed his bag and got out, joining them on the sidewalk.

“Ah, Keith, late as always,” Coran said. Keith scowled but didn’t say anything. Coran spun keys around his forefinger, the eccentric man fiddling with his thick mustache with his other hand. “And I still have yet to officially meet our new member,” his gaze went to Shiro, who was still in the car, talking on the phone with someone, voice hushed. “He is the one that’s possessed, correct? White hair and whatnot?”

“Yes,” Keith answered, crossing his arms and stepping a few feet back to lean against Shiro’s car, “He said that the spirit possessing him came from the mansion, and so we’re goin’ to cleanse it, or, try to.”

Coran spun the keys into his hand, the man taking in what Keith said. “Well, I wish you luck. Stay safe and Keith,” Coran was looking at him now, his eyes boring into Keith’s purple eyes, gaze knowing, “Take precautions.” Coran gave him the keys and left as Shiro exited his car.

“Was that Coran?”

“Yeah.” Keith looked at the keys, a few being normal ones, and at the edge of them, a rusted silver key with a large ‘B’ engraved in it. Keith was about to say something more until the sound of car doors being slammed interrupted him.

“Keith, if you were any cooler, people would stop believing in global warming,” Lance said, leaning on Hunk’s door with a hand cocked on his hip, denim jacket shuffling as he slid his other hand into his pant pocket.

“And if you were any louder, you’d wake the dead buried in the yard.” Lance gave a nervous chuckle before eyeing the yard past the iron gate. Keith followed his gaze and stared at the spot of dirt near the door, the wind rustling the vines along the house.

“You’re joking right?” Keith didn’t answer and instead motioned for Pidge and Shiro to start unloading. “Keith? Buddy?” Keith smirked, eyes flicking up to Lance, smug, as he grabbed two cases. Lance looked relieved as Keith walked up to the gate, key in hand. “You were joking.”

Keith unlocked the gate and pushed it open, the iron squeaking under the weight of itself and letting out a loud, eerie noise that made the hair on Keith’s arms stand up. Forcing his smile down, Keith turned his head, making eye contact with Lance.

“Am I?”

Keith walked into the property, his stomach churning as he ignored Lance’s yelp. He stopped halfway to the steps and gazed up, the building ever looming, tall and decaying. Clouds scattered across the sky, the hanging waning crescent almost at its peak. Keith’s eyes landed on the window where he saw the figure, the broken window vacant. The closer he got to the manor, the more he felt needles prickle his skin. They slowly poked him, digging deeper into his skin as he opened the door to the Black Manor, his arms numb as he walked in. He felt a hand at his throat and gasped. Keith tried to pry the hand from his throat but his nails dug into his own skin.

“Keith? Keith!” Keith heard Shiro’s footsteps rush behind him as he clawed at his neck. The moment Shiro reached out and grabbed Keith’s arm, the needles ripped from his skin and Keith nearly toppled over, hands dropping the cases to the floor. Shiro turned Keith around, holding the smaller man by his arms. Keith took in a large gulp of air, purple eyes shaking, unfocused. “Keith, hey,” Shiro said softly, “It’s me, Shiro. Come back to me, Keith.”

Keith slowly steadied his gaze, his eyes set into Shiro’s. He focused on Shiro’s hands, the tainted lavender aura twisting around him, trying to pull Keith back. Blood trickled down onto his upper lip.

Keith blinked, suddenly aware that Shiro was at his eye level, face inches away from his. Shiro felt Keith’s body relax.

“Shiro?” The blood dripped to Keith’s lips, Keith tasting the metallic with confusion. He wiped at his lip with his sleeve, the dark stain on the cuff of his sleeve unsettling him.

“Every alright?” Lance stepped through the threshold and upon seeing Keith, a wave of concern washed through him. “You okay, man?” He took note of the dark stain on the sleeve and the smear of _something_ on Keith’s upper lip,

Keith wiped his lip again with the other side of his sleeve, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just set up.” Keith sent Shiro a silent _Thanks._

Lance turned on the flashlight, shining the beam in front of him and walking in. He saw a rat scuttle across the floor and disappear beneath the staircase.

“Don’t leave wires on the floor,” Lance commented.

Keith followed the beam of light and saw the tip of a tail disappear into a hole in the floorboards.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

The group spent the next thirty minutes setting up their base. Hunk and Shiro brought in the table for their equipment and set it up on the far wall directly under the second floor. Lance and Hunk and brought two chairs, thinking ahead because, from past livestreams, the P.I.C. would forget to bring them. Keith found duct tape in his backpack and taped the portable charger to the underside of the table. Pidge set up her laptop and a tablet, connecting the two through a wire and sitting down in one of the folding chairs, the floor squeaking under her weight. Hunk quickly set up his laptop and went to help Lance set up the equipment for the other rooms.

Keith and Shiro set up a voice recorder in the middle of the den, placing it on a borrowed tripod from Hunk and Lance. Keith clicked it on, the red light blinking. Shiro set up the thermal camera where Keith had said to, setting it up on his personal tripod. The ghost he saw when he and Pidge first came to Black Manor was at the entrance to the dining room, and the foyer is where Allura got scratched and the lamp was thrown.  After it was set up, they hear a loud _thunk!_ And what Keith thought was the sound of wood cracking.

Lance rounds the corner of the archway leading to the dining room, a hand rubbing his head and a nervous Hunk at his heels.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, squinting in the low light of the manor at him. He could see Lance nod.

“Yeah, just slipped on a rug walking out of the kitchen. We’re all set up on our end.”

“We’re good over here too,” Shiro said.

“It’s almost midnight,” Pidge announced, her voice carrying in the crowded room, “T-minus ten minutes.”

Keith made his way to the table, pulling up a chair and slinging in next to Pidge. Her screen was split into quadrants; the thermal feed on the upper right, audio software on the lower right the webcam feed pointing at her on the upper right-hand side and beneath that was their blog, the video feed empty and the chat already moving. She dragged the webcam window to take up most of the screen while still keeping eye on their website, clicking on a few options to link the webcam feed to their live feed. 

“We’re about to record,” Keith told the other three. Lance, Hunk, and Shiro moved in closer, Shiro standing off to the side of Pidge while Lance and Hunk flanked Keith’s right. Keith waited for their wifi to kick in, the tablet pinging when it was up and running. Pidge hit ‘record’.

“Thank you for joining us tonight, guys,” Keith said, his face a little too close to the camera. “I’m here with Pidge and our new member, Shiro, along with some special guests.” Lance leaned in, shoving Keith into Pidge and smiling to the camera.

“Hello everyone,” he greeted happily, dragging out the long ‘o’, “My name is Lance and my buddy behind me is Hunk,” Lance leaned in closer, a sly smile on his lips as he whispered, “He’s camera shy.”

Keith grabbed the side of Lance’s face and lightly pushed him out of frame. “We’re here at Black Manor, a building that’s sort of the Garrison’s paranormal hotspot.”

“If you guys have been keeping up, you would know our new recruit, Shiro,” Pidge pulled him down. Shiro let out a surprised yelp. She points to his white bangs. “He is the main reason why we’re here.”

Shiro did an awkward wave, his right hand almost invisible against the black background. Keith watched the live chat, people asking what was that and where his arm was. Keith turned to Shiro, who was reading the chat.

“I came in here with some friends a while back. After we left, my hand would have a black stain on it every morning. I ended up going to Keith for help, and, well, I’m sure you can guess what happened.”

“As always, we will have our night vision camera hooked up to the live feed. We recently purchased a thermal camera, so that’s something to look forward to in our conclusion video. After we’re done tonight, there will be more footage than usual thanks to having Hunk and Lance recording their own audio and video.” Keith read a few of the comments, most telling him to stay safe and come out alive while others were wanting to see more of the new people. He laughed at a person who shared a screenshot of another investigator, the text reading ‘Eat my ass, spirits!’.

“We don’t condone ass-eating spirits you guys,” Pidge said, laughing. “Anyway, it’s about time to start. Stay spooky.” Pidge stopped the recording and Keith grabbed their night vision camera off the table, battery fully charged.

Keith got up and walked around, motioning for Shiro to follow him. Shiro grabbed Keith’s backpack and slung it over his shoulders, pulling out the electric thermometer and taking the temperature. Lance turned off his flashlight and shoved it into his jacket pocket, taking their extra voice recorder with him.

“The walkies are in my bag, Shiro.”

Shiro unzipped the bag with one hand, pulling out each walkie talkie one by one and handing them to everyone. Hunk and Pidge placed their walkies on the table close to them. Keith clipped his to his belt. Lance and Shiro did the same.

“The channel for communication is channel three. There are extra batteries in Pidge’s backpack, and I have a pack in my bag. If something happens, get on the walkies. We need to stay as quiet as possible.” The group nodded, and the atmosphere got thick. Keith swallowed his own feelings and motion for Shiro and Lance to follow him.

The three walked into the living area, the voice recorder still beeping. Keith panned their camera across the area, slowly watching as dust particles float across the lens. The room felt hot and empty. Keith recognized the feeling from when Flora Elaine crossed over. 

Lance stepped forward, dragging a finger across the walls, his steps slightly echoing in Black Manor.

“Living area temperature is eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit,” Shiro said, voice only loud enough so Keith can hear.

Keith walked toward the voice recorder, standing three feet from it and leaning against the back of the leather loveseat in the room. A drape flutters in the wind on the opposite end of the room, but other than that, there was no movement in the room.

“Is there anyone with us?” Lance’s voice shocked Keith, making his heart beat against his chest. Keith rolled his shoulders, Shiro placing a calming hand on his back.

Lance was met with silence.

Keith could hear the softest clicks of Pidge typing, and maybe Hunk chewing on his nails. The wind whistled outside, and Keith steadied his breath to match Shiro’s.

“If there’s anyone in this room, can you give us a sign?” Keith called out. He waited in anticipated silence and opened his mouth to ask again when they heard heavy footsteps coming directly above them.

They all jumped, and they could hear Hunk yelp. Lance left to go check on him while Keith moved the camera to look directly at the ceiling. He froze.

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. A phantom hand was directly above him, and then another. His blood froze over as the ghost pulled itself from the second floor, tearing away from the ceiling by splintering the wood underneath it. A high-pitched ring filled Keith’s ear as the spirit wailed, crawling down the wall and onto the floor. Keith took a step back as the phantom stood upright. The spirit was of a young woman, her eyes black and mouth agape in trapped agony. Her dress was charred as she slowly drifted toward Keith.

Keith stumbled backward, accidentally bumping into Shiro. On the camera screen, Shiro could see an orb a lightly gradually getting larger, closer to them. The electronic thermometer beeped in his hand, the temperature plummeting as the room grew colder. The temperature dropped twenty degrees. Shiro could see his breath. 

The spirit walked directly into Keith, his body seizing up, the camera almost slipping from his grasp. Keith took in a harsh breath, hunching over and dry heaving as it walked through his body. The spirit left Keith with her last memory, evil purple eyes piercing as she breathed in black smoke. Keith was sweating, body heating up as if he were being burned alive. Keith pushed Shiro a few steps to the side, turning around painfully as he pointed the camera at the spirit, who was now sitting on the couch behind them. She had her back to him.

“Who are you?”

A cold shiver ran down Shiro’s spine as he realized that there was a spirit with them, but he couldn’t see it, not like Keith can.

“Why are you here?” Keith asked, agitated. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, his fingers numbing in the cold. He watched as the spirit didn’t move, but let out another wail, this time, soft, almost inaudible to him. He knew that Shiro wouldn’t be able to hear it, and after this was done, they had to play back the recording. “Who are you?” The spirit ignored his question and with a huff, Keith slowly moved forward.

Every fiber in him was telling him to approach carefully or not at all.

Keith slowly arched around the couch, shoes scuffing on the floor. He couldn’t hear anything; no wind, not his own breaths, not even Pidge’s typing. He couldn’t sense Shiro, who was right behind him. Or at least, that’s where Keith thought Shiro was.

He felt a bead of sweat roll down his face as he stepped on the carpet, the wood creaking loudly under his feet. He didn’t look at her directly, but through the camera, the medium-size glowing orb floating two feet above the couch. The eerie quiet unsettled him.

“What’s your name?” Keith whispered.

The spirit turned her face toward him, black eyes bleeding as she turned her head to one side. Her mouth emitted a black mist, but as it lazily drifted toward Keith, the smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He could feel a headache dully pulse at the front of his forehead, his skin beginning to have the same sensation he had when he walked in.

 

_You… must… leave…_ she said faintly, her voice barely audible on his ears.

 

The hairs on Keith’s neck stood up. His mouth felt dry. “Why are you here?”

The spirit screamed, causing Keith to flinch. The camera shook in his hand and became unfocused.

 

_Trapped! Trapped! Trapped!_ She chanted, screaming. Her spirit moved from her spot on the couch to manifesting behind the thermal camera. Her back was to Keith, and he noticed just how far the burns on her dress were. The back part of her corset was gone, and Keith could see the scarred flesh and bone of her body.

Keith’s stomach lurched as he walked toward her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. As his hand grew closer, she turned around, his hand brushing over a scorch mark on her bare shoulder.

 

_Fire. Hurt. Leave._

_Fire. Hurt. Leave._

_FIRE. HURT. LEAVE._

The force of her voice in Keith’s mind caused him to cough, a burning sensation rubbing his throat. He felt the camera leave his hand, but he snatched it back, still coughing. Blood trickled down his mouth and bubbled behind his tongue. He swallowed it, leaning on Shiro for support as he pointed the camera at her again.

“Please,” he croaked out, begging, “I want to help you. Who are you?” He felt Shiro drape his arm around his waist, keeping him upright. Shiro wiped at his mouth with his thumb, cleaning the blood before it dripped onto Keith’s shirt.

The spirit closed her mouth.

 

_Abigail._

Keith shut his eyes, taking in a slow breath. 

“Abigail, can you tell me why you’re here? Can you… show me?” Keith ignored Shiro’s panicked whisper of his name. He reached out again, stopping hallway between himself and Abigail. He could feel her empty eyes look at his hand before taking it, the apparition of her crooked hand appearing on the camera.

Keith felt a pull between his eyes and closed them. When he opened them again, Black Manor was brightly decorated; the dark wood was mopped and sparkling in the lighting of the lamps. The deep purple paneled walls were covered in the oil paintings he had seen in Black Manor, except the paintings were well intact. The fireplace crackled brightly, heating the room and giving off an inviting red glow.

Keith looked around the room, every piece of furniture pristine and well taken care of. His eyes landed on a woman who sat on the couch, her back to him.

“Abigail?” he called out, voice unsure. He watched as she turned her head slightly, her light brown hair covering her face as she nodded before looking forward again.

Keith walked toward her, taking a seat one cushion away from her. Something told him to not look at her face. He stared straight forward, tracing the intricate spirals on the thick red curtains that covered the windows.

“You must leave. It is not safe.”

Keith leaned back on the couch, hands in his lap. He clenched his fists. “What makes you say that?” He could feel the air thicken with electricity. The lights flickered in the room.

“He still resides in the Manor,” she said. “My Lord feeds off of us. We cannot leave.”

“Us?” From the corner of his eye, he could see her nod.

“The others. You.” His blood iced over. Keith swallowed his nerves. “He drew you in the first time by using Takashi.”

Keith’s heart skipped a beat. Takashi. Slowly, things started to click together.

He remembered the spirit he saw upon entering Black Manor the first time. “So that was him. Was he murdered?” She nodded. “Why is he holding you here?”

“My Lord is dangerous. He has turned… dark after all these years. This house,” Abigail gazed upward, her head moving as she looked at the ceiling, “He’s coming,” she whispered. Keith strained to listen, but he couldn’t hear anything. “You must leave. He is no man, but a monster.”

Keith waited before asking, “Is he a demon?”

The lights went off in the manor. Smoke lazily drifted off of candles. The windows rattled loudly as pounding steps echoed throughout the space. Keith stood up, turning toward the living area’s archway. Abigail was gazing toward the stairs. Keith could smell sulfur, the scent rotting in his nose.

Abigail whispered for him to leave again.

 

Keith blinked. 

Unfocused, he tried looking directly ahead of him, his blurry vision slowly stabilizing. His head was pounding and he could feel something warm on his upper lip. His whole body felt stiff and when he moved, he could feel someone holding him. A hand wiped his sweaty hair back, the cool touch sending a shiver throughout Keith’s body.

“Is he alright?” Lance’s voice sounded like he was underwater.

“He’s coming to. He just fainted,” Shiro’s voice sounded far away. Keith reached out to touch Shiro’s face, latching onto him and pulling himself back from where ever Abigail had taken him. Possibly a liminal space. _Where’s the EMF reader?_

“Keith, are you okay?” Lance asked, a little amused watching the cool ghost hunter caress Shiro’s face.

Keith swallowed thickly, tasting blood. “I’m fine,” his voice cracked. Keith could feel his blood pumping. Shiro slowly sat him up, one hand on his lower back and the other guiding him up by his arm. _When did I get on the floor? When did Lance get the camera?_ Keith groaned, clutching his head. “What happened?”

Shiro glanced at Lance, the same uneasy expression on their faces.

“You fainted, and then…” Shiro trailed off, “You started talking while unconscious.” Keith looked at him, puzzled. Shiro pursed his lips, not sure how to explain to Keith what happened. “Your body went frigid and I thought… we thought –” he corrected before Lance finished for him.

“We thought you died or something, man,” Lance said. He was pointing the camera directly at Keith, his disheveled appearance and Shiro’s worried expression broadcasting to the livestream. “After a minute you said ‘demon’ and woke up.”

Keith sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. Abigail didn’t give him an answer, but if he’s trapping the spirits here, feeding off of them, and himself, then he is no spirit. The sheer power of him puts him in a darker corner that Keith didn’t want to think about. He’s never encountered an entity like this, and the logical choice is to pull out. Keith turned to Shiro; his white hair visible in the low lighting, his right hand cradling Keith to his chest. In the dark, Keith couldn’t see his arm. It’s like he didn’t have one. Pulling out wasn’t an option.

“Take me back to the table. We need to discuss some things.”

Lance held out a hand Keith. Keith used it to hoist himself up with the help of Shiro. The three walked the short distance to where Hunk and Pidge sat in the far corner of the foyer. Behind her glasses, Keith could see the unmistakable gloss in her eyes. Hunk was shaking, visibly scared.

Keith leaned on Shiro as he spoke, body fatigued. “I made contact with one of the spirits,” he told them. “Her name is Abigail. I think she lived here in the Manor, but all she told me was that we need to leave.” Keith looked into the camera Lance was holding before looking at him, then at Hunk. “There is, I think, a demon that lives here.”

“A demon?” Hunk whisper-screamed. Keith nodded. “A-a-are you sure?” he stuttered out.

Keith nodded again, this time with certainty. The feeling of being watched made him tense against Shiro, but he didn’t share the feeling.

“You are more than welcomed to leave. We’re amateurs at best. We’re not prepared for this.”

“You might be unprepared, but I’m not,” Lance dug around in his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bottle filled with water. “The Father at the church gave this to me. There’s also sage in my bag courtesy of my sister. Let’s exorcise this thing,” he said with a sense of unshakable justice. Keith thought it was stupidity.

“This isn’t some sort of movie, Lance,” he said angrily, “Exorcisms aren’t easy; the longer we stay here the more dangerous it becomes. Pissing off the entity by splashing holy water on it may be the last thing you do.”

“Just admit you’re scared, Kogane,” Lance taunted.

“Stow it guys,” Shiro spoke up, annoyed. “This isn’t some joke. A girl has the scars to prove just how dangerous this could be.”

“I am serious,” Lance insisted, peeved. “We wanna help, Keith. So let us.”

Keith breathed out heavily through his nose. “Alright, but I’m serious. Don’t piss off the spirits. Don’t use the holy water unless you absolutely have to.”

“Fine,” Lance agreed. “What now, Zak Baggins?” Pidge muffled her snort. Hunk rolled his eyes. Keith didn’t appreciate the nickname, but the tense atmosphere around the group dissipated.

“We need to go into the dining rooms and the kitchen,” Keith pushed himself off, squinting in the dark for the EMF reader. “Where’s the EMF reader?”

“You are the worst ghost hunter, Keith.”

“Or forgetful.”

Keith huffed. “It’s not like you guys have spirits constantly following you.”

Pidge reached into her backpack and pulled out their new EMF reader, the device bulkier than their last, but much better quality-wise. “Here. I already put the batteries in.” Pidge handed the device to Keith. “Just be careful.”

Before Keith could respond, the front door of the manor slammed open, making the group jump.

Keith whipped around, expecting to see someone there. There wasn’t. A gust of cold wind blew in, causing him to shiver and the electric thermometer to beep. Keith heard Shiro pull it out of the mesh.

“It dropped ten degrees.” Black Manor creaked, the chandelier above the foyer shaking from the wind. Loud thumping noises echoed from upstairs.

“Are we getting this, Pidge?”

“Yes.”

“This is insane!”

Hunk shot out of his chair, the noise drowned out by the thumping. “Nope, this is my limit. I want out!” Hunk shut his laptop, hurriedly packing his stuff by shoving it carelessly in his backpack.

Lance shoved the night vision camera into Keith’s chest. “I’m out too. I’m getting our equipment.” Keith stepped to follow him, but Shiro held Keith back. Before he could tell him off, Shiro stepped forward and followed Lance into the dining area.

The wind turned into a steady chill in the house, the front door still wide open. Keith saw a car drive by and watched the shadows outside turn from long, eerie lines to completely disappearing, hidden by the clouds. Keith could feel the needles in his skin again, the tips burning as he waited for Shiro and Lance to come back. Hunk was already by the front door when they all heard Lance scream.

Keith ran, camera pointed in front of him and when he stepped through the threshold into the dining room, all the chairs and tables were flipped: the legs pointing outward, a few bugs crawling on their undersides. Shiro was bracing himself against an old dishware cabinet while Lance laid on the floor, shielding his face and camera as a strong wind whipped around the room.

Keith shouted their names, but they didn’t respond. Keith could see the entity in the camera, visibly standing in front of the door to the servant’s dining room. Its black, misty outline made Keith freeze. His heart was beating harshly and his throat started to close up. His hands were shaking, the image on the camera unstable and he was sure the audio was covered by his heavy breathing. The entity’s glowing purple eyes pierced Keith and in a shudder, the thing disappeared. The room settled down and the strong wind stopped blowing. Keith kneeled next to Lance, trying to help him up but he shoved him, sending Keith back to land on his butt.

“I’m out. That’s it.” Lance had a long scratch going down the side of his face, small droplets of blood slowly pooling at the surface. “I can’t do this, man. This isn’t what I signed up for. You can fuck with the ghosts.” Lance got up. He dropped the holy water into Keith’s lap.

“Lance –”

“You can’t make me stay, Shiro. Goodbye, P.I.C. Enjoy your shit-show.”

Shiro limped over to Keith, helping him up. They heard the front door slam shut, the house settling again as they entered the foyer. Pidge sat behind her laptop, cleaning her glasses. She was tense, bags appearing under her eyes.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Pidge said finally, her voice carrying in the house. Keith couldn’t sense anything downstairs; not Abigail, Takashi or the entity. _Where are they? Where is it?_

“We need to leave,” Shiro said. Keith pulled away from him, about to protest before Shiro cut him off. “Lance was just injured, and I’m already… I…” Keith watched Shiro swallow his voice with a fixed glare.

“Spit it out,” Keith said, anger bubbling.

“I can feel it, Keith. In my arm. The burning, the –” Shiro let out a shaky breath. He forced himself to calm down, a hand nervously digging into the fabric of his jeans. “I think it’s too late.”

Keith’s heart dropped to his stomach. No. _No._ “No. No, it’s not too late. We’re doing this, Shiro. I’m doing this. Takashi, you -- you need help, Shiro.”

“I didn’t piss my pants for nothing, Shirogane,” Pidge said. Keith knew she was joking, but her statement was clear. There’s no backing out now. “We came all this way; we have amazing footage. You need help, and we’re close,” Pidge pushed her glasses up, “I can feel it.”

Shiro looked between them, his expression hidden in shadows. Keith could feel his panic, his lavender aura completely shrouded in black. They had to do this. Keith had to do this.

“Alright,” Shiro said after a pregnant pause, “but I don’t want you to go without something over your shirt.”

“My shirt?” Keith asked as Shiro shrugged off his jacket, placing the backpack on the table. Keith took it, an eyebrow raised.

“You’re prone to injuries, Keith. At least this won’t make anything cut so deep.” Keith’s heart thumped. He didn’t say anything as he put on Shiro’s jacket, the black cotton fabric loosely hanging off of him.

“Thanks,” Keith was glad it was too dark to see his blush, “dad,” he added.

Pidge held in her remark when Keith shot her a look.

Shiro clapped Keith’s shoulder, giving him a thumbs up.

“No problem,” he said, “Also I think we’re more than ready. Lance gave me a bit of sage and his holy water. For an emergency.”

“We’ve had plenty of those before,” Pidge said, her attention back on her laptop. “Looks like everyone’s getting antsy.”

“They can wait,” Keith said, handing Shiro the camera and turning on the EMF meter. The light blinked a steady yellow. “There’s already energy in here, but that just may be from your equipment.”

“Maybe, but unlikely.”

Keith dug in his bag, pocketing a few batteries for the EMF meter and walkie talkie. He also fished out the second voice recorder from the bottom, pulling it out of its protective sleeve. Shiro gave Keith the sage to hold in his jacket pocket. “Do we even have a lighter for it?” Shiro produced one from his back pocket, showing it to Keith before putting it back in its place. “Why do you have a lighter?”

Shiro hesitated before answering a vague, “No reason.” Keith left it at that.

“We’ll tell you if something happens, Pidge,” she nodded, wishing them good luck before they headed back into the dining room.

The furniture was still over turned, but a few chairs were knocked over by the wind. The EMF meter’s yellow blinking slowly got faster as they approached the servant’s dining room door. Keith looked to Shiro, who nodded, before opening it. Keith suddenly felt heavy, the pressure exerting from the room thick. He stepped forward, the meter changing from a bright yellow to an electric red. With his left hand, Keith turned on the voice recorder. It wouldn’t be until later that he would hear the unearthly whispers of the dead.

“Hello?” Keith called out, his voice loud in the room. A chair next to him flew against the wall, making him jump and his heart beat faster. “What was that?”

“The chair on the far left,” Shiro answered, his voice a frightened whisper. Keith would protect him. With his life.

“We have to go in there, Shiro.” Shiro only nodded.

Keith felt fear bubble in his stomach as he stood in front of the doors to the kitchen. He swallowed his fear, forcefully shoving his flight response to Hell and pushed opened the kitchen doors. 

The first thing Keith noticed was that this room felt empty. The air was still and he saw no dust float in the low lighting of the moonlight from outside. From what he could see, the cabinets had no doors because they had fallen to the floor, the counters and tiles cracked. It looked like no one ever came into this part of the manor before. Every time he blinked, Keith could see the fire.

“Is anyone in here?” Keith called out, stepping forward with Shiro behind him. Keith’s eyes panned the back wall, making out the sinks and where the food would have been made. “Abigail?” He waited but received no response. “Takashi?”

Behind him, Shiro hissed. The EMF meter was rapidly blinking red as he turned around. Keith watched as Shiro clutched the camera, the sound of it cracking underneath his fingers. The black on his arm shrank as it moved toward his finger tips and into the camera. Keith watched as it moved, encircling Shiro’s hand and the lens. He didn’t have time to process where it was going.

The black leaped out at him.

Keith was knocked backward, his head colliding with the tile with a loud crack. When he came to, Keith was on a cement floor. He pushed himself up, his hands and body damp from the puddle underneath him. Keith looked around the room, the walls unfinished with exposed insulation and a ladder and paint bucket on the other side of the room. Shiro’s jacket shielded him from the immediate cold, but he shivered when the wet fabric clung to his back.

Slowly, he got up, his head pounding. He walked into the next room, a hole made for a window showed that it was snowing outside, the snowflakes coming down quickly. Keith walked up to it, the cold embracing his face.

_This is Kat’s house,_ he remembered.

He continued walking around the home, trying to find something that would hint to why he was here. He tried the front door, but it was locked. He walked back into the room he was in first, and Kat was there, floating along the back wall, back and forth.

“Kat?”

She turned to him, a frown on her face. She looked older than he remembered with bags under her eyes and wrinkles in her brow. She approached him, slowly, but as she did, her features started to change. She morphed into a man who looked to be in his late forties, with short-cut hair and sharp features. Keith felt something snake around his leg as Kat’s eyes blinked into a violent purple, the glow reminding Keith who he was dealing with.

The demon.

Keith was yanked backward, his teeth clicking as his chin connected with the floor. He was slowly dragged backward. Panicked, Keith tried to dig his nails into the concrete to no avail. His finger nails bled and left a trail as he was pulled backward, the blood slowly lifting and going into the demon. It was absorbing his blood.

Frightened, Keith looked at it again, the demon’s face contorting into a fanged, grotesque smile. Keith screamed as he felt the electricity numb his leg and when he tried to kick, he couldn’t. The electric pulse made its way into his heart and Keith stopped struggling, his body seizing. The demon was gone when Keith’s eyes fluttered shut. 

It was dark. Keith could still feel his consciousness, but he couldn’t feel his body.  He couldn’t move, but the dampness from before was gone. He could feel carpet beneath him and a warm breeze fan his face. He forced himself to open his eyes and he was met with a familiar ceiling in a familiar room. He watched the oak fan turn slowly, and from his peripheral, could make out the shape of his mother’s bed. The light clicked on.

Keith could hear himself humming, the tune so familiar yet alien to his lips. He drifted over to the vanity, expecting to see himself in the reflection, but he didn’t. His mother looked back at him, her brown eyes bright as he reached for the brush, combing hair that wasn’t his. He reached for her lipstick, her makeup brush, her foundation, her blush – she was getting ready for the day. Keith didn’t need to look at the clock in the mirror. He knew the time.

He pushed his mother’s hair behind her ears, her purple earring studs shimmering in the light. She was beautiful. He heard the doorbell ring and Keith forced himself to remain seated, but he moved with his mother. Keith grabbed at the walls, the small dresser in the hallway, to stop himself from answering the door. His nails tore and ripped into the wallpaper, heart thumping harshly in his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes and threatened to fall as he made his way to the door.

He opened it, and his mouth went dry.

It was standing before him, body dressed in a suit and tie, face obscured by a low-sitting trilby, but its eyes were still that glowing purple. Tears rolled down Keith’s cheeks as he screamed at it, anything he could manage – croaked threats, deadly promises – but it just smiled, telling his mother about her dead toddler, stabbed to death in the classroom by a deranged man.

Keith felt chains lock his heart as he silently closed the door.

In a trance, he walked to the kitchen, steps slow and lethargic. He felt the shock of sadness wash over him. She was never going to see him again. She was never going to see her son again. She was going to have to bury her baby boy. Bury her reason for living.

Keith bit his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. He could feel the skin tear and bleed but couldn’t taste the blood.

Instead of reaching in the drawer, Keith turned around and grabbed a large knife from beside the stove.

“This will be your death,” its voice echoed in the house, dark and deep, “Your mind is a wonderful thing, Keith. The secrets you hide, the skeletons you keep, are what drew me to you, but you were not the vessel.”

Keith took the blade in his hands, staring at the cold silver.

“Takashi is perfect; his body, his mind the perfect place to reside, but you got in my way,” its voice was angrier, hissing at him, “The moment you laid a hand on Shiro, you sent something to protect him. You locked his soul. It lay deep within him, even deeper when you promised to help.”

Keith turned the blade over, looking into his reflection. His purple eyes were glowing.

“How lovely would it be to die here, Keith?” It said. “His feelings for you were slowly becoming stronger, and you yourself could not hide your attraction to him. Love had made him stronger,” it finished in disgust.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut as his hands started to move. He could feel his trembling hands point the knife directly at his throat. Keith felt numb.

“I used Takashi to lure you here, his spirit is mine to command,” it boasted, “He was weak enough to control, much like the others. I placed a piece of him in Shiro,” it laughed.

Keith swallowed the new information forcefully. Takashi wasn’t actually in Shiro’s body; he was being used as a puppet, the Takashi Abigail knew long gone before Keith came into the picture. He couldn’t help him.

“He holds your body now, screaming your name. You’re weak, Keith. Your spirit grows weaker,” Keith opened his eyes, looking down at the knife. He imagined seeing Shiro one last time. “How sad would it be, to die in his arms?” it laughed, the laugh ringing in Keith’s ears. “Once you are disposed of, I can live again.”

He couldn’t save Shiro.

Keith plunged the knife into his throat.


	8. Waiting

Shiro dropped the broken camera, kneeling down next to Keith. He shakily pulled the walkie from his belt, clicking to channel three.

“Pidge, can you hear me?” His voice was rushed, panic slowly washing over him. _Stay calm._

It was a few seconds before she came over the static. “What happened?”

“I, I’m not sure. Keith, he,” Shiro caressed Keith’s face, his touch causing no response. “He was attacked by the thing on my arm and hit his head.”

“Keep him still, but try to keep his head elevated.”

Shiro looked around for anything – a flat piece of wood, a plate, _something_ – to support Keith’s head. The wood was splintered, the plates were shattered, and the darkness engulfed the room. Shiro took off his shirt, balling it into a pillow. He carefully lifted Keith’s head and placed the shirt underneath him.

“Alright, I put my shirt underneath him. Call an ambulance or something,” Shiro pleaded into the walkie. Before Pidge could reply, the walkie shocked him, the device loudly screeching an ear splitting, high-pitched note. Shiro dropped it, the device dead on the floor. He looked at the EMF meter still clutched in Keith’s hand, and it blinked rapidly, shifting through all the colors before completely going out.

When the EMF meter died, Keith started to seize. His body moved rapidly, but the range of motion made it look as if someone was holding him down. Keith’s breathing became short and ragged. His eyes were squeezed shut and he screamed occasionally as if someone was hurting him.

Not knowing what to do, Shiro placed his forehead on Keith’s. His body trembled in the cold room, but not from the temperature. Hot tears pooled at the corner of Shiro’s eyes before rolling down and dripping onto Keith’s forehead. Shiro had read about spirit possessions and their effects. The lasting effects of always feeling watched, never feeling safe again; the mental battle with the spirit and the flurry of emotions. Shiro’s suffered these symptoms this past month; he would never wish anyone to suffer in the same way he did. Especially Keith. Never Keith. Not him. _How can I help? How can I save you?_

Behind him, Abigail manifested, her spirit nearly transparent as she placed a hand on his shoulder. She whispered his name.

Shiro whipped around, coming face to face with the eyeless spirit. He froze in place. He watched as Abigail placed a finger over her lips, telling him to keep quiet. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to talk.

She reached and cradled his face in her hands, leaning forward and touching their foreheads together. She made him cold. “If you lose hope, he will possess you too.”

Shiro swallowed thickly. “Who will?”

“Zarkon.”

Abigail evaporated into small orbs, her dim light lazily floating upward.

Keith started to scream.

Shiro turned his attention back to Keith, watching as he convulsed.

_Think! Think! Think!_

The best he could do was pull from shows that claimed to exhibit real paranormal footage and exorcisms. Shiro avoided Keith’s flailing to dig in his pockets, retrieving the sage. Shiro reached into his back pocket for his lighter, lighting the sage in a burning glow. The sage burned, the fire quickly engulfing half of it and the smoke drifting into the air. Shiro waved it carefully over Keith, making sure the ashes fell on the tile or on the bottom his jacket, away from Keith.

Keith’s seizing went from erratic to twitching, blood dripping from his mouth and nose to pool beside him.

With teary eyes, Shiro flipped open the Holy Water and poured a steady stream of it onto Keith’s forehead. His screams turned into quiet whimpers.

“Zarkon, demon of this manor, I bid you leave this body,” the Holy Water dripped onto the tile, “In His name, I banish you from this body and this home,” he felt stupid, unsure if it was even working. Keith was still twitching, but Shiro couldn’t see Keith’s eyes move rapidly beneath his eyelids.

Shiro flicked the Holy Water around them, on Keith’s body, on himself. With a sudden surge of confidence, he chanted, “You have no ties to this world. Zarkon, I banish you, in His name, I banish you, Zarkon.”

Keith’s body went still.

Afraid, Shiro dropped the sage and Holy Water, leaning in closely to Keith’s mouth. He could hear the soft breaths and feel their heat. Shiro bit his lip to keep himself from crying as he hunched over Keith’s body.

Keith whispered his name.

“Keith?” he whispered back. Shiro could see the purple eyes he loved; a hazy look about them. Shiro moved to sit up. He wiped the sweaty hair from Keith’s face. When Keith tried to move, Shiro used his hand to apply the slightest pressure.

“You hit your head, try not to move,” Shiro kept petting Keith, the gesture relaxing both of them.

“It’s… quiet,” he said hoarsely. Shiro only nodded. “Black Manor is… empty,” it came out as a question. Keith tried to say something more, but Shiro hushed him as he heard running footsteps.

Shiro watched as two EMTs burst through the door. One tried to tend to Shiro, but he waved them off. Shiro told them what happened, and they left to retrieve a stretcher. Shiro watched as they carefully moved Keith onto it and followed them out, grabbing and putting on his shirt on his way out. Pidge was already waiting with her backpack by the gate.

She ran to Shiro, slamming him into a hug that knocked his breath out. She didn’t say anything as she cried into her shirt. Shiro wrapped his arms around her, squeezing. He watched as the paramedics rolled Keith into the ambulance, his face smeared with his own blood. He watched as Keith closed his eyes. 

His heart squeezed.

 

 

When Keith awoke, his body ached. His eyes were assaulted with bright fluorescent lights, and he remembered why he hated hospitals. He could feel something in his arm and weakly reached around him, sending his aura and coming back with the feeling of four people in the room. He weakly turned his head, grunting at the movement.

Lance was softly snoring against Hunk, who both sat awkwardly in the hospital chairs. Lance’s cut was scabbed over. Pidge was beside Keith on the bed, her body bringing the only warmth he could feel. Her glasses were slanted on her face. He moved his foot and hit something.

He turned his head in the opposite direction. Near the foot of his bed, Shiro was hunched over, arms crossed underneath his head, asleep. His white forelock tickled Keith’s leg. When he tried to move it away, Shiro stirred, the man slowly waking up.

Keith smiled awkwardly.

Shiro sat up slowly, moving and reaching over to touch Keith’s hand, lightly holding it as he rubbed circles on the top of Keith’s hand. He smiled sleepily. “Good morning,” he greeted softly, voice low so only he could hear.

Keith licked his lips. “Good morning,” his voice sounded different. Scratchy. Shiro reached to Keith’s bedside table, pulling an ice chip from a bucket. Keith opened his mouth to take it. He welcomed the cold and waited for it to melt, moving it in his mouth with his tongue. Shiro laughed when Keith open his mouth again, waiting.

“It’s good to have you back,” Shiro smiled softly, stroking Keith’s hand.

Keith swallowed the melted chip. “It’s good to be back,” he replied weakly. Keith squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again, his mind clearer. “What happened?”

“You hit your head,” Shiro explained, reaching to push Keith’s hair behind his ears, “You had a concussion, but your body was so weak that you had to be admitted. They needed to monitor you and help your body in its healing process.”

“I meant,” he grunted weakly, “In Black Manor.”

Shiro scoffed lightly, amazed. “You were possessed by Zarkon. I used the sage and Holy Water to get him out of your body.”

Pidge stirred beside him, slowly waking up from eavesdropping on their conversation. “The stream went down. The last thing anyone saw was you going down,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes underneath her glasses, “I listened to the audio tapes and something kept whispering your name. I haven’t reviewed footage yet, but from what I saw in the feeds, we had some apparitions.”

“You got the equipment out?”

“Coran and Matt did,” Pidge answered, swinging her legs over the side of the hospital bed, “They didn’t encounter anything. Maybe that’s a good sign.”

Hunk snored himself awake, the noise making everyone slightly jump. “Oh!” he said, a little too loud and woke up Lance, “You’re awake.”

“Welcome back, man,” Lance said sleepily, stretching. “Thought you still would’ve been asleep, honestly.”

“I’m sorry we left, Keith,” Hunk started, looking at the floor, ashamed. Lance looked away. “We already sent Pidge our audio and video recordings.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Keith heard himself saying. He laughed weakly. “You guys did the smart thing.”

Lance chuckled forcefully, the sound making Keith’s fingers twitch. Shiro laced their hands together. “Did we? You got hurt.”

“You did too,” Keith could tell there was going to be a “Yeah, but,” but he cut him off, “Really. I’m glad you guys are okay.”

Hunk and Lance looked at each other. Hunk nodded.

“We want to join the P.I.C.,” they said in unison.

“We know you guys could use the extra equipment, especially with your night vision camera busted.” Keith groaned internally.

“There’s power in numbers,” Hunk added, “And you guys could use another editor.”

“Hey!” Pidge cut in, getting up and pointing an accusatory finger toward Hunk. “My editing is solid!” Everyone laughed as she pushed up her glasses, annoyed. “Anyway, we can take care of that right now, actually.” She walked toward the door, hand on the doorknob and looking back. “Keith, I’ll give them the paperwork. Lance, Hunk, come with me.”

“What?”

Pidge’s eyes glanced at Keith’s and Shiro’s hands, Lance finally noticing. A smile that didn’t sit well with Keith adorned his face. He casually jumped up, stretching.

“Come on, Hunk, we got our souls to sign over,” Lance said. Hunk looked like he was going to protest until he noticed Shiro and Keith’s entwined hands.

“Right, right.”

The three said their goodbyes, Lance closing the door with a shit-eating grin. Keith watched as they left and once out of sight, he sighed.

Shiro laughed. “Tired?”

“Something like that,” Keith said, blowing hair from his face. Shiro moved over, rolling the doctor’s stool over so he could push Keith’s hair behind his ear. Keith blushed, ears burning. “Thanks.”

Keith got a good look at Shiro: the black on his arm was gone, but he replaced it with a white bandage. His white hair was stark against his hair. He had faint bags under his eyes and he looked a little paler. _Did it not work?_

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, brows furrowing in concern.

Shiro laughed lightly, smiling mostly to himself. “You’re the one in a hospital bed, and you’re asking me that?”

Keith smiled a barely-there smile. “You were in that room with me, Shiro. And,” Keith removed his hand from Shiro’s, bringing it up to caress his face, “You look rough.”

Shiro cradled Keith’s hand on his face, leaning into the touch while using his other arm to support him on the bed. “Takashi took a lot from me. My arm looks like it suffered from third-degree burns, and sadly,” Shiro removed his hand to run it through his bangs, “The white is permanent.”

“I think it looks cool,” Keith said, his voice slowly returning. 

Shiro chuckled. “You think? It kinda makes me feel like Danny Phantom.”

Keith laughed and instantly regretted doing so. A pain throbbed in his head, chest and lower back. Keith moved his hand to clutch his head.

“Take it easy,” Shiro went back to holding Keith’s hand, “You need to rest.” Keith could hear the unspoken _What happened?_

“Takashi was never inside you, Shiro,” he started. Keith looked at the ceiling tile, recalling the events. “At least, not really. Zarkon had corrupted his spirit.” He turned to look at Shiro again. “He wanted to ‘live again’, as he put it,” Keith made air quotes, “He said I got in the way of taking full control over your body and,” Keith’s face burned as he left out the ‘love’ aspect of it, “Zarkon tried to kill me.”

Shiro sucked in a breath, his heart beating faster.

“He didn’t though,” Keith remembers the knife shattering as it made contact with his neck. Shiro watched as Keith’s eyes turned glossy, and he could feel his own eyes begin to burn. “You saved me.” Keith took Shiro’s hand in his, switching their positions. He could feel his throat constrict at the thought of him near-death. Zarkon would have killed him. Shiro would have had to see him dead. He didn’t want to think about the ‘what if’ if he had died that night. He didn’t linger on the fabricated reactions for long before forcing himself to smile. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Shiro scratched his neck with his other hand before rubbing it sheepishly. “Well, I had some help. If it wasn’t for Abigail, you might’ve not have made it…” he trailed off, thinking about Keith seizing in front of him. He doesn’t think that sight will ever go away. “She warned me I had to do something… so I did what I could.”

“Holy water and sage, right?” Keith laughed, mostly at himself, for telling Lance that this wasn’t a movie. It might as well had been. He would have to apologize to him later. 

“Yeah,” Shiro confirmed. “I just kind of copied those re-enactment people,” Shiro down played his actions.

Keith wouldn’t have it. “You really did help me, Shiro. I really… Thank you.” Shiro shrugged, looking away, embarrassed. Keith squeezed his hand and Shiro squeezed back.

“And you helped me,” Shiro said after a cough to regain his composure. Shiro looked into Keith’s eyes. “You really are amazing.”

Keith saw Shiro aura then; the bright lavender emerging. It was pure, almost warm. Keith watched as it licked at his hand, his heart bursting with emotion. He was laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” Shiro asked, smiling.

“I haven’t told you, but,” Keith watched as the soft purple burying itself into his red, “I can see auras. And yours really likes me.” Their hands pulsed a soft plum.

The silence that followed that sentence was awkward. Keith figured Shiro would say something but when he didn’t, he tore his eyes from their hands to the taller man. His face turned a beet red, and Keith blushed, his whole face a pink tint. _Oh._

“Shiro, I -”

“No,” he interjected, covering his mouth with his free hand, “It’s fine. I mean,” he scratched his neck again, smiling softly, “It’s uh, it’s fine. I guess I don’t have to tell you then.”

“Tell me what?” Keith could feel the heat in his cheeks, but he wanted Shiro to say it; to say what Zarkon hinted at. He wanted to hear it from Shiro.

“You’re killing me here, Keith,” he laughed. Keith laughed too. Shiro took in a deep breath. He laced their fingers together, fingertips burning.

“At least it’s me.”

Shiro chuckled softly. “That’s true, but that’ll be unfortunate. I wanted to ask you out before I died.” Shiro laughed as Keith turned his head away from him, covering the lower part of his face with his fist. Shiro could still see how red he was turning. “Is that your answer?” he laughed.

Keith turned his head, draping his from arm across his torso. Their auras had mixed well now, and Shiro’s onyx eyes shimmered in anticipation. Keith slowly broke into a smile. They both know the answer.

“I’d like to date you too before I die.” They laughed together.

“Alright, alright,” Shiro wiped a tear from his eye, “Will you go out with me?” 

Keith’s heart skipped a beat, but he answered immediately. “I’d like that.” Keith sat up, causing Shiro to jerk his hand from Keith’s and support Keith’s lower back. Shiro helped him sit up and could hear his back pop at the movement.

“Getting old, Keith?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Keith closed the gap between them, his chapped lips on Shiro’s. Shiro returned the pressure softly, the two sharing a long-awaited kiss. Keith could feel Shiro’s fingers tangle in his hair as Shiro gently pulled him closer. When they pulled apart, Keith rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder and sighed. Shiro chuckled, moving his hand to Keith’s back and rubbing soothing circles. He placed a kiss atop of Keith’s head.

The plum engulfed the two of them, shielding them from a spirit’s prying eye.

Keith felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending? Me? Who am I.
> 
> If y'all made it this far, thank you for reading all of this fic. Feel free to leave constructive criticism. It's been YEARS since I've written anything with an actual plotline... no joke last time I wrote something like this (and posted it) was back in middle school, nearly ten years ago.
> 
>  
> 
> You can like/reblog a post with the story information [here](http://grimkohai.tumblr.com/post/164932334949/title-black-manor-for-the-sheithbigbang)! You can also follow or talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/grimkohai) or [tumblr](http://grimkohai.tumblr.com)!


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